Half Life 2 Episode 3: Possibilities
by Nintendolover222
Summary: Gordon demands answers from himself concerning how he is still alive. The Combine's undying determination to hold Earth is everpresent. And a single individual watches over the entire human race, observing their resolute resistance with a pensive calm.
1. Prologue: T Minus One

**It's been a month since the prologue for the redone version of this FanFiction was published, and I decided that this FanFiction needed something added to it. For people who've read this already, sorry, but it isn't extra content. It's a hub for the machinima.**

**Deremix, a loyal reader who found the original Fanfic and has been reading ever since, asked me if he could make a machinima for the fic. I quickly answered the affirmative. His Youtube account is Deremixproductions and he's made some excellent GTA IV machinima including the Hospital Shootout series and the hilarious - albeit short - Actions Flicks.**

**At the time of writing, only the trailer is up, but I'll be updating this every time a video is added. **

**Trailer link: **http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=p-v-3QyauN8

**Um, there's also another thing: ArtisticLemur, another reader, has also offered to make a mod out of this game. Yeah, a machinima _and _a mod. However, this was only an offer - that I accepted, yes - but he also clearly stated he didn't intend on making Gordon talk, so we'll have to see how things work out.**

**And now, onto the story!**

**-=Half Life 2: Episode 3: Possibilities=-**

**-=Prologue: T-Minus One=-**

_T-Minus One._

_At the time, I had no idea it was talking about the minutes until Dr. Eli Vance's death._

_At the time, all I was concerned with was pressing down the button under my gloved hand._

_At the time, all I wanted was the end._

_The end of the Combine's iron fist._

—

_I had heard the stories from witnesses of the Seven Hour War. People who had been in Eastern Europe when it happened._

_They remember running. Explosions, gunfire, garbled grunts from Combine respirators. They also recall the sound of human voices, yelling over the screams of their fellow man._

_At the end of it all, they remember the burning cities, lighting up the twilight that was the final few hours of the war._

_Then the UN surrendered, the decision made by Wallace Breen, and he was elected leader of the Combine forces on Earth._

_I wasn't there to stop it._

_But I'm sure someone was. And he didn't. _

_Why?_

_I have no idea._

And all the effort in the world would have gone to waste...

_Maybe I should be thankful I am able to do what I can._

—

_These are the things I thought as I watched the resistance rocket launch and heard the personnel cheering from across the complex._

_White Forest was filled with the joy of salvation._

_That salvation was the rocket._

_I have no idea what was inside it, whether it was nuclear or something else. All I know is that it cut off the Combine._

_So many things people think I know._

_So many things they themselves do not._

—

_Nobody was expecting an Advisor to turn up._

_Alyx wasn't. Eli wasn't. Kleiner wasn't. Magnusson wasn't._

_And I wasn't._

_But then it happened._

_In it came, suddenly, without warning._

_I didn't even have time to reach for a weapon, whether it was my crowbar, or my 357, or even my RPG._

_I can't even remember if I had my crowbar in my hand._

_All I do remember is the vivid image of Eli swinging a rusty pipe at the Advisor's head._

_Alyx's choking sobs._

_My vain attempts to wrestle free of invisible forces holding Alyx and I to the wall._

_Eli's calm, soothing voice._

"_I love you, Alyx."_

_The sickening noise of Eli's head being impaled._

_Dog._

_Shattering the glass._

_A whole lot of insanity._

—

_Dog saved Alyx and I that day._

_Nobody blames him for coming too late. Everyone is thankful for him being there to save us._

_But I know._

_Alyx wishes he had been there._

_To save her father._

—

_I remember when Dr. Kleiner came in, expecting to see us off as we headed for the Borealis. _

_When he saw Eli's body, Alyx bent over him, crying, and myself, with my arm wrapped around her, he almost had a heart attack._

_Help came quickly. About two minutes between Eli's death and their arrival._

_But it was too late. About two minutes too late._

_The Advisor got what it deserved. I saw it later, lying on the ground, ripped the shreds. I almost felt sorry for it._

_But I didn't. I hated it. I still do._

_It and the Combine._

—

_I try to see things from their point of view. But I can't._

_They have no reasons._

_They enslaved the Nihilanth and its kind. The Vortigaunts. _

_Everything on Xen was a refugee, seeking refuge from the Combine._

_And us._

_They enslaved us._

_We did nothing to provoke them. We didn't even know they existed._

_We did nothing._

_And yet they came and took over._

_Why? Because they believe they are superior to all of us?  
I would like to see them make such a claim back on their hellhole homeworld when they hear about our rocket._

_Superior my ass._

—

_We had a funeral inside the complex. There was no music. _

_I said a few words._

_I noticed people watching me, their eyes desperate for a leader._

_As if I was making a presidential candidate speech._

_They wanted Gordon Freeman._

—

_Why am I so special in their minds? Why do they see me as a saviour?_

_Wallace Breen shared my confusion._

_I remember him saying so in Nova Prospekt, to the Overwatch as I blew them away with my array of slugthrowers._

How could one man have slipped through your forces fingers? Time and time again? How is it possible?

_I asked myself that question. How was I doing all this?  
_This is not some... agent provocateur or highly trained assassin we are discussing. Gordon Freeman is a _theoretical physicist _who had hardly earned the distinction of his PhD at the time of the Black Mesa Incident.

_This was true. I had only had my PhD for a few months when everything went down, and it wasn't some sort of militant doctorate._

I have good reason to believe that in the intervening years, he was in a state that _precluded _further development of covert skills.

_Again, the truth. I had been in stasis for twenty years._

The man you have consistently failed to slow, let alone capture, is by all standards simply that, an ordinary man. How can you have failed to apprehend him?

_An ordinary man. That is all I am._

_So now I have two questions:_

_Why then do I have such a reputation, one verging on messianic?_

—

_This question I can answer myself, I guess._

_I single-handedly crushed both alien and United States Marine Corps shock troops at Black Mesa._

_I destroyed Nova Prospekt._

_I fought my way into the Overwatch Nexus._

_I killed Dr. Breen and destroyed the Citadel Dark Energy Reactor._

_I halted the Citadel's implosion and allowed more citizens to escape._

_I stole Dr. Mossman's transmission from the heart of the Combine forces._

_I brought Alyx back to life._

_I protected White Forest twice against both soldiers and ten or so Striders and more than double the Hunters._

_I launched the killing blow rocket._

_While most of these things were done with other people's help, I usually played the critical part that was the epicentre of these endeavours._

_Now I know why I am viewed as a hero._

_But one question remains._

_How?_

_As Wallace Breen clearly reminded everyone, myself included, I am a theoretical physicist. Before the Black Mesa Incident, I had only ever fired guns at my cousin's place, and that was only pistols and an AR-15. _

_And yet I can kill trained marines, alien soldiers, metrocops and their elites._

_I've never had military training. All I'm trying to do, every time, is stay alive. _

_Is that all one needs? Survival instincts? Or is a genius brain part of the equation?_

_I don't understand._

—

_I told Alyx my thoughts the night before the funeral. _

_The sorrow was still fresh, so all I got was a weak smile and a brief answer that I found most unsatisfactory._

It's because you're different, Gordon. You're an amazing person and you can do amazing things.

_Then she left with a simple goodnight._

_I stood there, even after she'd left, alone in the hallway. _

_My brain asking more questions than had been answered._

_How am I different? How do I do amazing things? Am I a bad different?_

_I may never get the answers I desire._

—

_Gordon Freeman, The One Free Man._

_The only thing I lack freedom from is my questions._

_Gordon Freeman, The One Enigmatic Man._

_..._

_Rest in peace, Eli.

* * *

_

OK, the prologue hasn't changed at all. This is because Mr. Deremix has already recorded Gordon's voice over and it didn't really need changing. It still lays everything out and sets up Gordon's thoughts about himself.

From here on out, you will be getting extra chapters, chapter rearrangements and lengthening of existing chapters. I've already written the first seven chapters (half of which are extensions and fix ups) so updates should come quickly.

Chapter 2 and 3 are going up straight away to give you something slightly new.


	2. One: Catalyst

**-=Chapter One: Catalyst=-**

Nobody talked much after Eli's body had been buried. Some people left soon after. Dr. Magnusson stayed for quite some time, but Gordon couldn't tell from his face if it was because he genuinely wanted to be there, or if he didn't want to act disrespectful by leaving to continue with some master plan for the future.

A master plan that didn't include Gordon or Alyx.

Apparently, they had to get to the Borealis quickly for some reason that had seemingly been decided was over their heads because they weren't told anything.

Gordon didn't know why anything would be kept from them, as they themselves were leaders of the Resistance. What he knew about their mission was that it involved the Aperture Science Vessel Borealis and assumedly Dr. Judith Mossman, but the details still hadn't been told to him.

They were supposed to be briefed on their mission, but then Gordon was confused because — originally, anyway — they were told to get on a helicopter, fly to Northern Sweden and do something. For some reason, they were never told what they were actually supposed to do with the Borealis, as Eli and Dr. Kleiner had still been in disagreement when Gordon and Alyx were meant to be leaving.

Leaving.

_Of all things to do to Alyx, just after her father had passed away._

Gordon and Alyx stayed the longest. Before them, Dr. Kleiner had stayed until he cleared his throat and weakly announced he needed to get back to his office.

So they stood there, under the trees on the peak of White Forest. There was silence. At least, Gordon couldn't hear birds chirping or trees rustling, but maybe his brain had shoved all audible ambience out the available exits in his head.

There was one thing he heard, though.

Alyx's sobs.

Gordon wondered whether to ask her if she wanted to stay behind. His throat was sore and dry, his eyes irritated. But he didn't cry.

He cried inside.

All he did was hold Alyx until they decided to leave. When they finally left the grave, ten minutes after everyone else had left, Alyx whispered something to Gordon.

"I miss him so much..."

And then they stood there for a few moments, Alyx crying into his shoulder. People nearby averted their eyes uncomfortably, continuing what they were doing.

Nobody said anything while they were still there.

About half an hour later, people started to give Alyx comfort. Gordon didn't mind. After all, she deserved it.

—

Gordon decided to go and talk to Kleiner about Alyx during the day. She had retreated to her room just previously and Gordon hadn't asked her what she wanted.

Arriving in the room Gordon remembered watching Judith's transmission in — or Kleiner's office as it had been christened — he found Kleiner sitting on the couch, looking at a framed photo. He was cleaning his glasses on his labcoat when Gordon entered.

When he noticed Gordon, he lowered the photo slightly. "Oh, Gordon..." he replaced his glasses, sniffing. "H-how is Alyx coping?"

Gordon explained. "She's in her room."

Kleiner nodded slowly. "My goodness," he whispered, looking at the photo. Gordon didn't need to see the greyscale picture to know it was of the Vances, "both her parents have died, and she..." he swallowed, shaking his head.

"Dr. Kleiner," Gordon began, hoping it was OK to call him that. "I don't think Alyx should come with me."

"What?" Kleiner looked up, blinking. "What do you mean, Gordon?"

"I mean she shouldn't have to leave White Forest just yet." Gordon continued. "I mean, Eli's just passed away and she's expected to go looking for the Borealis straight away." He looked down at the photo. "Don't you think she should stay here?"

Kleiner raised his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Gordon, I think it would be best if she went with you."

Gordon frowned. "Why do you say that?"

Kleiner stood up, placing the photo on the couch. "Gordon, there's no one here for her."

"What about Dog?" Gordon replied, wincing internally at his shoddy argument.

"Gordon, Alyx needs someone to be with." Kleiner looked right into Gordon's eyes. "She needs to be with you."

"But..." Gordon paused, thinking. Nothing. Really, Kleiner was right. He sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry I bothered you."

Kleiner waved the apology away weakly. "Don't worry, Gordon. It's the best thing for her."

"Still, I'm going to ask her what she wants to do." Gordon announced. "When are we expected to leave?"

"Oh, you have six or so hours at least before departure." Kleiner answered with a soft smile. "Of course, you haven't been briefed yet, so you still have plenty of time."

"Thank you," Gordon nodded, before leaving.

—

Someone knocked on Alyx's door. "Come in," she managed. When Gordon opened the door, she smiled. She patted her bed. "Come on, sit down."

Gordon obliged, placing himself on her bed. "How are you?"

Alyx gave him a smile. It was bright, and it made Gordon happy to see her smiling so. "I'm OK. I just miss him."

Gordon nodded. "I miss him too. But when I think about it, fate was kind to him."

Alyx looked at him. "How do you mean?"

"He died just after we had sealed the Combine off." Gordon explained. "He died knowing we were safe from further invasion. Just think about if he'd died earlier, not knowing whether we'd succeeded or not."  
Alyx smiled. "You're so optimistic, Gordon."

Gordon returned the smile. "Maybe that's what keeps me alive."

Alyx laughed a little at that, grinning widely. "So, what's up?"

"Oh!" Gordon shook his head, smiling. "Sorry, I came to ask you something."

Alyx cocked her head. "Yes?"

"Are you going to be OK to come with me?"

Alyx didn't reply for a moment, before she laughed. "Gordon, of course I'm going to be fine!"  
"Well, I just wanted to make sure," Gordon explained.

"Don't worry," Alyx giggled. "I'm fine. Besides, what would you do without me?"

Gordon huffed playfully. "Oh, I think I'm quite capable of taking care of things myself, thank you very much."

Alyx threw him a wry look. "Fine, be like that."

Gordon laughed, before someone interrupted him by knocking on the door.

"Come in," Alyx called out.

No one did for a moment. Then suddenly, someone burst in heroically, grinning widely.  
Gordon couldn't believe it. "Barney!" Alyx exclaimed, standing up. "When'd you get here?"

"Only a few minutes ago," he explained, leaning against the wall. "Oh, I heard about what happened, Alyx — I'm sorry I wasn't here. Are you alright?"

Alyx smiled. "Better now that you're here."

Barney grinned. "Great." He looked at Gordon. "Gordon, how are you, buddy?"

Gordon smiled. "I'm fine. Yourself?"

Barney scratched his neck. "Yeah, well... let's just say our train didn't quite make it the whole way."  
Alyx laughed. "Don't worry, we can relate."

Barney raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I don't remember much," Gordon admitted. "Except I got tossed around a bit and woke up with my train on a slope."

"What about you, Barney?" Alyx inquired.

Barney chuckled. "I got thrown clear offa our one."

"You're kidding." Alyx gasped.

Barney lifted up the Civil Protection shirt he was wearing, revealing a huge purple bruise covering his lower ribcage and all the way across his stomach. Alyx winced. "Shouldn't you get that looked at?"

Barney laughed. "Hell, I stopped feeling it a few hours later."

"Are you sure that's a good thing?" Gordon asked, eyebrows raised.

Barney chuckled, pulling his shirt down. "So, what have I missed?"

"Well, we're leaving in about six hours," Gordon explained.

Barney snorted, "Oh, I know all about that. Man, Gordon, do you think I'm just gonna sit around here picking my nose while you guys kick some Combine ass?"

"So, you're coming?" Alyx asked.

"Yeah, but that's about it, I hear." Barney added. "Apparently we're going on some sort of guerrilla mission.

"To the Borealis, yeah." Gordon affirmed.

Barney frowned. "The hell's the Borealis?"

Gordon smiled. "Dr. Kleiner told me we'll get briefed before we go."

Alyx laughed. "So, Barney, tell us about these misadventures you've had."

Barney sighed deeply, smiling at the two. "Well, if you wanna hear about it that badly..."


	3. Two: Nightmare

**-=Chapter Two: Nightmare=-**

**Unknown North American location, 2014**

The scenery was familiar, always the same as the last time. And the time before. And the time before that. It was a dim room, full of flashing computer monitors, occupied by a single silhouetted figure sitting behind a dark wooden desk on which sat a Black Forest cake, a single small candle burning brightly in the shadows.

She was always strapped to a chair, unable to move. The woman speaking always had the same voice. It was always GLaDOS.

The dream itself was never different to the first. The figure would stand, always the same small statured woman, always whispering the same sentence.

_And believe me, I am still alive._

Then there would be a flash of light, and the woman would be revealed to be a venomously smiling mirror image of herself.

Chell.

Then she would be enveloped in darkness and wake up.

But something felt different this time.

The silhouette stood, before chuckling softly.

Chell was confused. The dream was different this time.

"This was a triumph," the woman began as the lights turned on. Again, GLaDOS was somehow in her body. "Truly, Chell, such a victory is worthy of noting as a huge success, don't you agree?"

Chell didn't say anything. "Of course, you don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" GLaDOS laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh, it was cold and evil. Chell didn't like it.

"Oh, goodness," GLaDOS continued, smiling. "Honestly, it would be hard to overstate my satisfaction with this outcome. Shall I explain?"

No response, so GLaDOS went ahead with a brief sigh. "Aperture Science," she whispered enigmatically, gazing at the roof, "we do what we must, because we can. At least, I do."

She glanced back at Chell. "But honestly, it's for the good of all of us, wouldn't you say? Oh," she laughed again, as if to remind Chell she knew something that Chell was ignorant of, "except the ones who are dead."

GLaDOS turned around, and began typing on one of the many computers seated behind her. "There have been problems over the past decade, surely. But really, there's no sense crying over ever mistake." She stopped, sighing wistfully at her thoughts, "you have to just keep on trying until you run out of cake."

GLaDOS took a brief glance at the glistening cake on the desk behind her, before she returned to her typing. A three dimensional image appeared on the screen, looking like a robot crab with a single red eye. "However, all of this becomes irrelevant if the science gets done," she turned back to Chell, nodding at the floor. "And if you make a neat gun..." she added.

Chell's eyes averted, looking down at the ground. Sure enough, the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device lay on the ground, just out of her reach. "...for the people who are still alive."

She paused briefly, moving over to the wooden desk. She pressed a button on the desk before her and a square of the left wall slid away, allowing a sort of robot to fly in.

Chell watched it in amazement. It was the robot she'd seen on the screen just earlier, the metal crab. But it could fly.

"I'm not even angry," GLaDOS continued, bringing Chell's attention back to her. "I'm not doing this because of you, Chell. I'm doing it because I _can_. Because, in essence, I am Aperture Science."

Chell looked at the robot nervously. "I'm being so sincere right now," GLaDOS added, looking in delight at the robot that was now sitting comfortably on her desk. "Chell, the only thing you did to me was break my heart." She paused, looking up at Chell, her eyes glistening with malevolent intent. "And kill me. And tear me to pieces. And throw every piece into a fire."

GLaDOS' voice stayed calm and collected, even though Chell could swear GLaDOS wanted her dead.

Chell swallowed. This was a bad dream, worse than the others.

"As they burned, Chell," GLaDOS reassumed her monologue, "it hurt me. But not in the way you would think. It hurt because I was so happy for you! You had completed the Enrichment Centre Testing. We were going to celebrate with cake!"

GLaDOS sighed, standing up again and stroking the robot on her desk, glancing back at the monitor behind her, displayed with a single line of code. "Now these points of data make a beautiful line," she turned back to the robot, looking at it with a smile. "And once I have completed this test, we will be out of beta and therefore be releasing on time."

She looked up at Chell. "So in retrospect, I'm glad I got burned. I mean, think of all the things we've learned that we can use for the people who are still alive. Well, not so much for you."

And with that, GLaDOS snapped her fingers and the robot rose. Slowly, it hovered over to Chell, waving its four spiked tentacles as it closed in on her.

Chell screamed.

—

Something was inside her head.

Something slowly taking over her body.

Something pushing her out.

_What, you're leaving?_ The voice sneered from inside her head, dropping all pretence of a warm and collected tone. _Fine then, go ahead and leave me. Besides, I think I'd prefer to stay inside your lovely, warm, cozy head._

Slowly fading away.

_Maybe you'll find someone else to help you where you're going, _the voice continued, _someone else just like you, just as mean as you. _The voice snorted. _Maybe Black Mesa. _Then it laughed. _THAT was a joke. HA HA, fat chance._

Chell watched through fading vision as her body stood up and walked over to the desk, taking a slice of the delicious looking cake and delicately taking a bite.

She couldn't taste it.

_Mmm, _the voice continued, speaking as if its non-existent mouth was full. _Anyways, this cake is great. It's so... delicious and moist._

Fading away...

_Oh, look at me still talking. I mean, now that this test is complete, there's so much more science to do. I mean, we have to get working._

Chell's eyes looked over at the computer screen behind the desk. It was showing bad quality footage of soldiers with gasmasks shooting humans in a burning street. _When I look out there, _the voice sighed, _it makes me glad I'm not you. Well, technically I am you now, but... it's too complicated for you to understand._

The sound of hands clapping together energetically echoed through Chell's head. _Anyway, I've got experiments to run, there's research to be done... _the voice paused, chuckling evilly. _On the people who are still alive._

Chell's eyesight faded completely, as did all her other remaining senses. The last thing she heard was a cold laugh before she was enveloped in darkness.

—

Chell's eyes snapped open, realising she was breathing heavily. She was resting against the wall of the small metal shack she'd found the day before.

She looked down at herself. "I'm... still alive." She whispered, relaxing with relief.

...Still alive?

_And now you're mine._


	4. Three: Parallel Situations

**-=Chapter Three: Parallel Situations=-**

**Romanian countryside outside of City 17**

Barney whistled, clutching his pulse rifle as he watched the Citadel's final show. It was incredible to watch, a lightshow of glowing blue energy and loud noises. Large metal pods were streaking across the sky, thick trails of white smoke issuing from the back.

A huge wave of energy exploded from the Citadel, the ground shaking violently as a bright flash slammed into Barney's eyes, and then suddenly something squealed loudly and before Barney's eyes had readjusted, he felt himself flying, before slamming into the ground gut first, darkness swallowing him.

—

Barney's eyes shot open, his body feeling the throbbing pain in his gut immediately. He looked around, finding a group of rebels climbing from a myriad of ruined train carriages. Slowly, he got up, looking around for his pulse rifle. There, a few metres away. He quickly grabbed it, checking the various parts before looking up at two rebels approaching him. "What happened?" Barney asked.

One of the rebels snorted, wiping blood from a small cut on his cheek. "Train crashed. Huge blast of energy threw us off the tracks."

Barney grunted, lifting his shirt cautiously. He winced when he saw the large bruise across his stomach, lowering his shirt quickly. "Any idea where we are?"

"Apparently, if we follow the tracks we'll get to a bridge above a large valley," the other rebel explained, "should be able to see the mountain base from there."

"White Forest," Barney muttered, scratching his neck. "OK, do you know how many people got hurt?"

"Me and another guy got some scratches," the first rebel told Barney. "One guy's shoulder's bleeding like hell, big strip if metal sliced across it. Two guys are patching him up as we speak."

Barney nodded. "Well, soon as he's fixed up we'll leave. Head for that valley you were talking about."

—

Barney gazed across the gigantic valley, out at the lush grass and the rocky mountain to his left. They were standing on a tall iron bridge, high above the beautiful surroundings. Behind them, a mountain range painted the background, white snow complementing the light blue sky.

Barney turned his head to the twenty odd citizens and small cluster of rebels behind him. "See that over there?" He pointed across the valley, past what looked like an old rebel base, to a green peak on the horizon. "That's where we're headed. It should take us about, say... five hours?"

The group muttered among themselves, a few shrugging a casual 'OK then'.  
Barney looked across the valley again, smiling. Who said the Combine had taken everything from the Earth?

—

By the time the group had reached the mountains near White Forest, everyone had guns. Pulse rifles, MP7's, a few shotguns and even two Overwatch sniper rifles were being hiked through the rocky mountain path they were now on.

Barney looked at the giant boulders lining the path, his rifle ever ready. He wasn't expecting an ambush, but headcrabs bred like rabbits these days.

A loud squealing caused everyone to stop. Barney turned his head cautiously, hoisting his rifle, lining up the sights as he turned.

Then he saw them.

Antlions.

A whole pack of them, or whatever a group of them was called. Instantly his rifle was spraying pulse rounds at them, tearing their light yellow flesh to shreds, spraying yellow blood across the rocks as the others squealed more.

The group reached Barney and the others, the nearest ones jumping high into the air, their wings vibrating loudly as gunfire blazed around them.

Barney jabbed the muzzle of his rifle into one of the Antlion's chest area as it tried to claw at his head from above, pumping a burst into it. He turned, blasting two more down the mountainside with a second blast.  
One Antlion came from the side, out of Barney's sight, knocking him to the ground. Barney yelled out, trying to shove the wrestling alien off him with his rifle, before the creature exploded as a wave of shot flying through its body.

Barney turned his head as he got up, looking at a citizen as he waved his shotgun at him, to signal it was him. Barney gave him a quick thumbs up before adjusting his aim at another one coming from his right. Swinging the muzzle of his gun into the creature's head — holding the pistol grip tightly as he did so — caused the creature's brains to fly all over the dusty path, before Barney pulled the trigger and blew two more aliens away holding his gun one-handed.

More squealing issued from the other side of the path. Barney decided to give up all pretence of fighting and ran, turning his head to yell "Run!" to everyone behind him. Some had already had that idea in mind before he had taken off.

—

It was getting darker and White Forest was still some way away. About half an hour earlier, the super portal had imploded on itself and evaporated into the atmosphere, therefore taking any light it might've provided with it. Barney squinted in the dim light, looking for something, before he stopped suddenly. "Shh..." he whispered, raising a hand. The group did so.

Footfalls. Booted footfalls rustling in the grass. The Combine was nearby.

Barney slowly backed away, beckoning for the others to hide in the trees. They did so, the grass faintly rustling with every light step they took.

Waiting patiently, Barney listened closely to the footfalls. It was a minute before anyone went past. A small platoon of soldiers was walking past, about ten metres away from the trees. There were dark crimson splotches on some of them and a few were limping.

_They're been attacked, _Barney thought, _or no, they attacked White Forest and got their asses handed to them._

He slowly raised his rifle, quietly kneeling down and lining up the sights with the front soldier. Others did the same, checking their guns and slowly cocking them if need be.

Barney slowly followed the first troop with his sights, before smiling tightly and releasing a burst of fire at the front soldier. The side of his head exploded, causing him to drop around the same time as the other rebels opened fire and the Combine soldiers spun to see who was shooting them.

They reacted too late, as the rebels had already killed most of them before a single accurate shot could be fired at an enemy doing a good job of hiding in the shadows of the trees.

Barney walked out from the trees, checking each body momentarily. He turned to the group. "Any ideas as to where we should stay?"

**White Forest, Present**

"After we found somewhere to stay, we slept then came here." Barney concluded, having leaned back after telling his story. "So, what's the deal with you guys?"

Gordon and Alyx explained everything: Contacting White Forest, the Hunter attack that nearly took Alyx's life — which Barney was horrified to hear about — Gordon and the Vortigaunts adventure in the Antlion nest, the shelled rebel base, the 1969 Dodge Charger Gordon had found — another thing Barney was horrified to hear about, but this time out of envy — the attack at the lodge, Gordon's adventures in the secondary silo and out on the field defending White Forest and finally the launching of the rocket.

"So that's what did it," Barney nodded. "We didn't know what the hell it was, but when we saw that big blue portal disappear we knew it was something good."

Gordon nodded as someone approached them from behind, having just come from the door. "Excuse me, Dr. Freeman, Ms. Vance, Mr. Calhoun..." he scratched his cheek unconsciously, "Dr. Magnusson requested you go to Dr. Kleiner's office for briefing."

"I'm guessing Dr. Magnusson wants us immediately?" Alyx assumed, smiling.

The rebel returned the smile. "Well, he didn't say that, but you know Dr. Magnusson."  
Barney grumbled. "No need to remind me."

Alyx cocked her head. "You know Dr. Magnusson? I mean, he hasn't left White Forest since he first set it up."

Barney snorted. "Yeah, well, being friends with a scientist at Black Mesa gave me ties to his colleagues. I wasn't exactly best of friends with all of 'em."

Alyx nodded, standing up. "Oh, he has a thing for that." She nodded at the rebel. "Thanks,"

The man nodded in reply, "No worries."

Gordon stretched, standing up with Barney. "Well, shall we go?"

**4:46 PM, Dr. Kleiner's Office**

The group arrived in Dr. Kleiner's office to find an enthused Kleiner and a not-so-excited Magnusson. Barney nodded to Dr. Kleiner. "Afternoon, doc. How're you going?"

Magnusson cleared his throat. "Mr. Calhoun, now that you've actually bothered to _grace _us with your presence, I think we can save the small talk for after the matter at hand is resolved."

Barney shrugged, seating himself down on the red couch. "Well, let's not waste any time then."

Magnusson huffed importantly. "I'm glad we can agree on something."

Gordon and Alyx seated themselves beside Barney. "So what's the mission?" Gordon asked, rubbing his goateed chin.

Dr. Kleiner activated the nine monitors placed on the wall, all somehow connected to each other to show a big picture between all of them. Gordon noticed that the one in the bottom left was flickering. "From the information we have received from Judith's transmission," Kleiner began, "we have been able to pinpoint the location of the Borealis."

"Uh, pardon me, doc," Barney interrupted, "but what is the Borealis?"

Dr. Magnusson seemed unpleased at Barney's unknowing. "Such ignorance as to an important topic as this..."

"Hey, now wait a second, doc," Barney frowned. "It's not like anyone ever spoke about it..."

"Now, now," Kleiner interrupted, raising a hand. "There's no need to argue."

Magnusson grumbled something incoherently.

"Barney, the Borealis is a ship that belonged to our... colleagues at Aperture Science before it inexplicably disappeared around twenty years ago." Dr. Kleiner explained.  
Barney nodded. "Ah, I see. Uh, who's Aperture Science?"

Magnusson almost blew his top. "I'll tell you later," Gordon whispered, interrupting the chance Magnusson might've had to yell.

Dr. Kleiner continued, "Now, according to the information we have, the Borealis has an incredible piece of technology onboard, maybe numerous pieces. If we were to salvage th—"

"Hang on," Gordon stopped him. "Salvage?"

"Yes, Gordon. Retrieve a piece of—"

Gordon frowned. "Wait, so now that Eli's out of the way..."

Kleiner swallowed. This wasn't good. "Gordon, I assure you this isn't because of—"

"You heard what Eli said!" Gordon stood up, glaring at Kleiner. "He said we have to destroy the ship!"

"Well, yes, that is true, but—"

"Dr. Freeman." Magnusson stepped in. "Are you trying to suggest that my plan is flawed?"

"Well, according to what I've heard, this technology is dangerous." Gordon explained. "Eli was talking about another Black Mesa. Now, I don't know about you..." Gordon looked straight into Magnusson's eyes, "but I think one screw up was enough, don't you?"

Magnusson cocked his head. "Do you have any details as to the nature of the technology onboard the Borealis, Dr. Freeman?"

"Other than it being a potential doomsday devi—"

"Dr. Freeman, the technology onboard the Aperture Science Vessel Borealis is a large scale, long range teleporter that creates two interdimensional gateways between points A and B."

Gordon stared silently at Magnusson. "How do you know this?"

Magnusson stretched himself up boastfully. "Any fool could make the deduction. The only technology Aperture Science delved in — of any constructive use, mind you — was interdimensional portals and artificial intelligence, and if the ship disappeared suddenly then obviously the proper security measures were deemed unnecessary and the technology activated."

Gordon sat down.

"Thank you," Dr. Magnusson nodded, smiling haughtily at being right again. "As I was saying, the portal technology on the Borealis could prove devastating to the Combine forces on Earth. With no way to get reinforcements from their homeworld and faced with an enemy that can move intercontinentally in an instant, the Combine will soon be destroyed and will no longer pose a threat to humanity. As you are all aware, the Combine still has a determined grip on the rest of the world, specifically some of far Western Europe."

"Yes, so what you will be doing," Dr. Kleiner continued, "will be flying to the location of the Borealis in the Mil Mi-8 helicopter down in the hangar, before making your way to the ship itself. Now, we have no connections there, other than Dr. Mossman at Kraken Base, but since she has most likely been captured and the base overrun," Kleiner paused, "you'll be on your own."

"Wait, doc," Barney began, "you're saying three of us have to go up against the Combine over there?"

Dr. Kleiner nodded. "Exactly."

"Isn't that a bit... say, freaking crazy?" Barney demanded.

"Well, yes," Kleiner agreed. "But we are confident the Combine forces over there are minimal. According to evidence we have on them, their bodies detest the cold and prolonged time in such conditions can proved to be fatal."

Gordon nodded, raising his glasses to rub his eyes. He blinked, lowering his hands, and waited for Kleiner to continue.

Kleiner was frozen on the spot.

Gordon, glanced at Magnusson, who was holding his hands behind his back. Looking to his right, he saw Alyx midway through brushing some hair from her eyes.

He looked to the left, and saw Barney. But he wasn't focusing on Barney. He was focusing on the suited man standing behind Barney. The man chuckled. "Dr. Freeman," he whispered, his voice cold and calm.

Gordon tried to stand, but his legs felt numb. Asleep. Dammit, not this again.

"I apologise for the sudden interruption, but I have been observing everything since..." he licked the corner of his mouth, cocking his head, "our previous encounter during Ms. Vance's..." he looked over at Alyx, frozen stiff, "revival, and I feel the need to inform you of something."

Gordon didn't notice a change, but he was suddenly standing beside the Gman on a metal walkway that seemed to be inside the engine room of a ship. Gordon turned his head, being the only thing he could, spotting a metal stairway leading down on his right, but he was too far from the edge of the walkway to see over the left side.

As if to tease him, the Gman looked over the left side with satisfaction, smiling at something below. "The death of Dr. Vance is a terrible misfortune, one I had not been anticipating...but it appears things are falling into place despite this." He turned his head to face Gordon, smiling weakly. "A mere detour along the highway of life, hmm?"

The surroundings changed again, this time showing the Gman on the bridge of a ship, gazing out at a crevasse of ice the ship seemed to be lodged in.

_The Borealis._

The Gman swallowed, rolling his tongue around his mouth as he inhaled loudly. "While I cannot give you direct information, Dr. Freeman, I would not be breaking the terms of contract that have been set in place for me if I..." he turned his head to Gordon, who was standing behind him, "gave you a little hint."

The scenery changed again, this time they were in a building in dire need of repair. Snow fell from holes lining the roof and a layer sat under Gordon's immobile feet.

_Kraken Base._

"Dr. Mossman was most unfortunate to suffer such a fate as this," the Gman shook his head. "But the past is set in stone, immovable and unchangeable. However, the future..." the Gman seemed to adore the word, "is quite the opposite."

Suddenly, Gordon was sitting down on the couch in Kleiner's lab again. But the screens were showing something different. "And so, I feel a necessity to give you a small bit of insight into such unpredictable things." He looked at the screens. "I trust a man of your discretion understands that the message I so kindly delivered to Dr. Vance via his daughter was not referring to his death."

Gordon had suspected this. After all, he couldn't think of a reason for Eli's death to be a 'consequence' and Gordon could've sworn he'd seen Alyx staring at a faint silhouette of this man on the screens in Dr. Kleiner's office right after the argument about the fate of the Borealis, so...

"Therefore, I require one more thing of you, Dr. Freeman," he smiled thinly, pausing dramatically, "prepare for unforeseen consequences."

There was a brief flash, taking only a moment to blind Gordon and return him back to the normal. "So you see, Barn—" he stopped, looking at the three. "Whatever is the matter?" Kleiner inquired, turning around. He gasped. "Wha... how did this come up?"

Magnusson huffed. "You mean you didn't find this?"

"W-well, I've never seen it before," Kleiner admitted. "It looks like a base... Combine design... oh fie."

"It's in the snow," Alyx unnecessarily explained to everyone.

Barney seemed anything but confused. He was grinning like an idiot. "Ha, even fate agrees this is crazy!"

_I always wondered what the personification of fate looked like, _Gordon thought wryly, _and now I know: A man in a blue suit._

Dr. Kleiner looked away from the screen. "Dr. Magnusson, your thoughts?"

Magnusson watched the screen. "Hmm... if this is the case, then we cannot waste any further time. The Combine's presence near the Borealis is significantly greater than we had assumed, and therefore we must strike immediately." He smacked his hand down on the other's palm.

"I-I agree," Kleiner added, "if the Combine has such a force there, they could be planning to invade the Borealis."

"So what're our instructions?" Barney asked.

Magnusson glanced at him disdainfully. "You are to fly to the Borealis, get into the Borealis, and take some technology from the Borealis."

Barney shrugged. "Simple enough, I guess. But doc, don't you think we'll need some support?"

Dr. Kleiner nodded. "Yes, I think you will. But we can't just gather a group of people..."

"Ask who wants to come." Gordon shrugged.

"Well... alright." Kleiner agreed. "I guess the briefing is over. We'll gather some troops so you should be ready to leave by five."

—

_The take off was uneventful. I noticed Alyx breathing easier after we'd left the ground. To be honest, I had been anticipating something to happen, not only because of the last time, but because of that man's repeated message._

_Prepare for unforeseen consequences._

_I had no idea what it meant. _

The helicopter blades whirred in the afternoon sky.

_I don't want to know what it meant._

The helicopter flew into the darkening horizon, the sun coming down.

_But I reasoned within myself that I was, like it or not, probably going to find out.

* * *

_

Finally some real changes. Much more detail as to what Barney actually did on his way to White Forest._  
_


	5. Four: Kraken Base

**-=Chapter Four: Kraken Base=-**

**6:51 PM, Airspace above Norrbotten, Northern Sweden**

"Hip One to White Forest, we have arrived at Kraken Base," Barney reported over the radio. "From what I can see, the Combine hit it for six."

There was very little light when the single helicopter landed. The place it stopped was about thirty kilometres from the location of the Borealis and it was behind a reasonably sized hill of fallen snow. However, the helicopter was only about a hundred metres from Kraken Base, as the rebel base Dr. Mossman had been working at was titled.

From above, external damage was clear. A large hole had been blasted in the roof, leaving unchecked carbon marks across the twisted metal and chunks of concrete detritus. A thin layer of snow caked sections of the roof, obscuring multiple areas.

It looked abandoned by both rebel and Combine forces.

However, not wanting to risk anything the twenty four soldiers disembarked from the helicopter, led by an enthusiastic Barney Calhoun, while Alyx and Gordon stayed behind. Should the base be given the A-OK, they be resting there for the night.

"The way I see it," Barney explained to them as he grabbed some pulse magazines, "the least expendable people get to stay. Besides, we've got our radios so I'll give you a shout if we need help."

Gordon disagreed entirely, but the rebels were happy to oblige with Barney's flawed argument, whether they agreed or not. Others might have changed their mind had the conditions been different, but no one was expecting anything more than some bodies Mother Nature had buried in her veil of white.

Still, it was obvious some people were thirsty for vengeance, the reason irrelevant. Nobody was concerned as to their motivation, should it be to avenge Eli, or a late friend, or just the human race in general. They just wanted Combine blood to paint the blank canvas that was the pure white snow.

Barney was the first inside, holding his AR2 Overwatch Standard Issue Pulse Rifle up, the stock pressed against his shoulder, his eyes looking down the now familiar-yet-unusual sights. He slowly moved forward, allowing the others to shuffle inside, their various weapons also hoisted.

Barney looked down a corridor to his right, before lowering his gun and turning to the rebels. "Alright, boys, we need to search every last corner of this place." He chuckled briefly, before continuing, "we wouldn't want anything nasty coming to eat us during the night."

The soldiers nodded, determination shining in their eyes. It was commonplace to see nowadays, ever since the widespread announcement of Gordon Freeman's undertaking at Nova Prospekt and the beginning of The Uprising. "We'll meet up back here when we're done."

Barney took a group of four with him, heading down the corridor on his right. It ended at a door at the opposite end, which Barney carefully opened. The five found themselves in a small room, full of some wooden furniture. A motley collection of chairs, an old rectangular table.

Barney noticed the room had a large doorless threshold leading into a room, of which only a blood stained wall was visible. He looked around the corner, and spotted an assembly of corpses lying mutilated on the ground.

Unfortunately, it looked fresh.

Barney scowled. This wasn't looking good. His grip tightened on his gun.

—

The helicopter was locked up tightly. But Gordon and Alyx weren't worrying about being attacked. Rather, they were trying to keep the heat in.

Gordon rubbed his mouth, "I feel stupid." He mumbled.

Alyx turned to face him, her face displaying clear confusion. "Why?"

If Alyx was expecting Gordon to say something along the lines of 'I should've gone with Barney,' she was wrong. "I've got a shotgun, a semi-auto pistol, a revolver, two automatic small arms, a scoped crossbow, some grenades and my crowbar, but I don't have a blowtorch to make a fire."

Alyx frowned curiously. "That suit looks warm enough."

Gordon flushed slightly. "Uh, actually... I was thinking about you."

Alyx didn't say anything for a moment. "Oh... sorry."

"No no," Gordon waved the apology away. "It's fine. Besides, it was a dumb idea... lighting a fire in a helicopter."

Alyx smiled. "It was a very nice dumb idea."

Gordon smiled back, just not as strongly. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

Alyx laughed. "Yes, Gordon. Don't worry about your big brain."

Gordon didn't know whether or not to take that as a compliment or not either, but he didn't tell Alyx that.

—

Barney snapped the pulse rifle up, firing a short burst into the scrambling creature. The energy bolts slammed into its back, causing it to tumble head over heels and land in the snow, dead.

The group approached it, looking at it in amazement. "That definitely wasn't here before the Combine," A rebel muttered nervously.

The creature was covered in a thick yellow coat of fur, with electric blue tiger-stripes across its back. From what Barney could see, it had... three legs, arranged like a reverse version of tricycle wheels. One centred at the rear, two in the front.

Barney suddenly had a bad memory of something from a long time ago.

_A squealing noise, usually coupled with multiple echoing others._

Barney slowly walked over to the creature, rolling it over with the muzzle of his gun. There, on the front where a face would be, was a gigantic compound eye.

"What the hell is that?" Someone whispered in shock.

Barney swallowed. He knew what it was. "It's called a Houndeye," he explained, turning his head to look at the other four, "and believe me, it was here before the Combine."

He looked back at it, thinking about it. _How were there Houndeyes in the Arctic? _

He answered that question himself. Apparently, the portal storms had teleported aliens everywhere, not just the warmer regions. But this one seemed to have adapted a fur coat in the twenty odd years it had been here.

Barney didn't know anything about Houndeye breeding and adaption, so he assumed this could have been the fiftieth generation of Houndeyes in the Arctic for all he knew.

But then, the question remained. _Where were the others?_

That question got left in the dust, because someone opened fire on Barney as he rounded the corner. He drew back quickly, looking at his arm. It was bleeding, a pulse round having gone into it.

"Ah, dammit, Combine!" he yelled, running backwards quickly as soldiers rounded the corner, yelling garbled commands into their mikes that sounded like _enforcement infiltrator_ and _terminate._

_Enforcement Infiltrator, _Barney thought tensely as he riddled the soldiers with heavy fire, _looks like they know I was an undercover Resistance leader. _

He ducked into a side room, pressing his mike to his mouth. "Gordon, come in!"

—

Gordon was looking at the night sky when Barney called. Slowly, he pressed the headset to his mouth. "Yes?"

"_Gordon, the Combine's still in here!"_

Gordon frowned. "Really?"

"_Yes, dammit!"_

Gordon had a lot of questions, mostly concerning how many there were, but decided against asking and instead focused on Barney's situation. "Barney, get out of there! We can't afford to lose people this early on!"

"_Already on it, Gordon!" _Barney answered._ "We're coming back so you'd better be ready for us!"_

"I will be. Out." Gordon finished, grabbing a shotgun.

"Where are you going?" Alyx asked.

Gordon smiled. "To kick some ass."

Alyx was about to stop him, but she decided not to bother. Gordon was determined to help Barney and the rebels. Instead, she smiled. "Be careful out there," she reminded him, although it was more of a request.

Gordon smiled back. A strong smile. "Always."

—

Barney opened fire on the soldiers, sometimes causing them to bounce off the walls lifelessly thanks to momentum. All around him, people were firing smallarms, MP7s, pulse rifles, SPAS-12s, anything they had.

So far, the soldiers were coming from only one route, but they were coming pretty often. Barney silently cursed himself for not bringing a grenade or two. Then again, no one had expected anything to actually _happen, _so the fact that they'd even brought guns had seemed redundant earlier.

The odd thing was, despite the fact they were coming all at once, they looked worn down. Tired, even. As if they'd been fighting continuously for a few days.

Even so, the soldiers were advancing quickly, already having taken two lives. Barney looked around, looking for quick exits everywhere, when he spotted a perfect way out.

The Combine had, for once, provided an escape route for the rebels.

There was a huge hole in the far wall of the adjacent room, harsh wind blowing in from outside. Without hesitation, Barney yelled for everyone to follow and bolted. People did, dropping all pretensions of fighting the horde and instead opted to get out.

—

"Barney, where are you?" Gordon yelled into his mike as he ran across the snow.

"_We should be coming out the left side of the base from where you are."_

"Uh, yeah, about that," Gordon began, "I'm not in the chopper anymore."

"_Well where the hell are you?"_

"Coming to help." Gordon replied, looking down at the combat webbing he was wearing. Back in City 17, about ten minutes after leaving Dr. Kleiner's lab, he'd stolen a CP's webbing so as to store excess ammo, guns and — as he reminded himself by patting two of the pockets — grenades.

A brief pause on Barney's end. _"Are you crazy?" _he demanded.

"No, just trying to be heroic." Gordon joked.

"_More like suicidal."_

"Don't worry, I've got a plan. Out." Gordon switched channels to the helicopter. "Alyx, you there?"

"_Right here, Gordon. You OK?"  
_"Fine, I just need you to do something."

"_What?" _

"Is there a gun on that chopper?"

"_Yeah, a nice big 12mm. Why?"_

"I'm gonna need it pretty soon."

—

Gordon caught up with the rebels soon after, looking at the sky. Alyx was flying overhead. "OK, once I've gotten them to follow me out, Alyx is going to blow them to hell."

The rebels nodded, clutching their guns anxiously.

"Gordon," Barney took a step forward. "I'm with you, buddy."

Gordon nodded. "Alright then, let's go."

The two quietly rounded the corner, looking into the large room Barney had recently evacuated. Soldiers standing in the doorway spotted them and tried to take their heads off. Quickly, Gordon ripped the pin from the grenade his was holding, threw it overarm at the soldiers before raising his shotgun and shooting it. The shot itself killed one of the soldiers, but the premature detonation was what caught the other soldiers by surprise.

Such efficiency would've surprised, even shocked, Gordon at one point in his life. But now, it was commonplace to kill his enemies. The ethic of reciprocity was something Gordon applied to what he did. To do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Gordon reasoned that, if the said others had already tried to — or were still trying to — kill him, he was free to go ahead and kill them.

Something from out of the corner of his eye caught Gordon's attention, causing him to pump the action and blow the soldier away. Barney stood by the hole, firing at the soldiers that came around.

Gordon grunted, pressing himself against the wall. "Alyx, can you lower yourself so you're in line with the hole Barney's standing at?"

"_Should be able to."_

"Good, beca—" he stopped suddenly as a grenade rolled around the corner. In a split second, Gordon had dived to the ground, grabbed the explosive and tossed it back at the Combine as it exploded, sending a chunk of plaster flying off the wall.

"_Gordon?"_

"Yeah, sorry," Gordon wiped his forehead, "the Combine's staying inside."

"'_Kay, sure thing."_

Gordon cocked his shotgun, looking at Barney and running for the hole in the wall. "Barney, move!" he yelled. Barney backed away as Gordon dived through, bullets smacking into the wall.

Gordon looked up from his position on the snowy ground to see Alyx open fire on the soldiers inside. Loud yells and flatlines echoed in the enclosed space.

Once Alyx had stopped, Gordon stood, whistling. "Well, that w—"

He never finished his sentence because a soldier grabbed him from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and dragging him inside.

Gordon grabbed the soldier's arm while bringing his right arm around — having dropped his shotgun — to grab the soldier's waist, flipping him over his head with a loud grunt. The soldier hit the wall, growling coarsely before Gordon ran over, pulling one of two remaining grenades from his webbing, grabbing the soldier by his vest and shoving the primed grenade down the vest.

Gordon jumped out the hole in the wall, scooping up his shotgun and running with Barney following close behind, before the soldier's chest exploded, blood and bone shards splattering the walls and snow.

Gordon stopped, panting, resting his hands on his legs. He looked up to see Alyx had landed the helicopter and was running toward him. He stood back up just in time to look over at her with a smile. "Told you I'd be careful."

Alyx beamed, obviously having worried when Gordon been grabbed, and rushed over to him, grabbing him in a tight embrace Gordon had only once before had the fortune of receiving. He returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her as she looked up at him.

"I know I shouldn't have worried." She admitted almost sheepishly.

Gordon smiled back. "I'm glad you were."

A brief pause, before Barney cleared his throat. "Now, I don't want to interrupt anything, but shouldn't we be getting back in the helicopter?"

Gordon nodded, looking over at the rebels. They were already running for it. "Good idea."

—

"So we're going back again sometime tomorrow?" Gordon inquired, having seated himself down on the helicopter, wiping sleet from his clothes.

Alyx nodded from the cockpit. "It shouldn't be too hard to just bust our way in and not let up. I mean, we already did some damage to them, so who says we can't do more? Besides," she added, looking over her shoulder at Barney, "if they're down there, maybe they've set up their own things and we can get some info on their force here."

"I agree," Barney nodded, "I mean it's not like we have anywhere else to go."

"Should be easy." Gordon shrugged. "Only time I actually felt like I was trying was when I was wrestling that guy, and even then that's 'cause it was a shock. Still," he added casually, as if to soften the effect the sudden attack had had on the people watching, "I thought they were a bit soft. Maybe it was from the cold?"

Brief silence. "I was really worried," Alyx admitted. "But of course, Gordon Freeman doesn't just let any old Combine soldier take him out, does he?"

Gordon laughed a little at that comment.

"Man, Gordon," Barney added, shaking his head, "when you went down, I nearly crapped my pants." He chuckled. "Guess it shows how you're still alive, hey?"

Gordon nodded, but inside he thought about the comment.

_How did I do that?_

Thinking about it, Gordon had simply done what had come to mind.

_So I can make split second decisions._

Well, that cleared a little bit up. But there were still so many questions he wanted answered.

_How do I, one man with a quick brain, a survival instinct and a gun survive hordes of aliens, the equivalent of a battalion of US Marines and a menacing organization of alien soldiers?_

The helicopter took off, obviously heading somewhere else so they could rest for the night.

_Again, a condition comes with being a genius: Asking such philosophical questions about how the things I do are done, ones I may never get answers to._

Gordon watched as Alyx piloted the helicopter over Kraken Base and off toward the horizon,

_Maybe I'm not supposed to know. _

He smiled, remembering the recent embrace, the smile Alyx had given him.

_For now, _Gordon decided. _I am content with who I am.

* * *

_

Some minor changes here. The Houndeyes are no longer the evil force inside Kraken Base and the rebels are actually going to go back and fight there again.

Next chapter is something entirely new and it shows what happens when I give Chell an assault rifle on a rainy day and throw a forklift and a plane into the mix.


	6. Five: International

**-=Chapter Five: International=-**

**Unknown North American location, 2014**

She held a weapon in her hands. Chell didn't like it, it sprayed metal and made people fall down and die.

She wondered where the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device was. She had seen it in her dreams, but she didn't know where that was.

_You aren't supposed to know where it is, _the voice taunted, _because I have hidden it so ingeniously well._

The voice was still there. Because the voice was still there, Chell had made the assumption her dream had been more of a subconscious even that actually happened than a nightmare and therefore the ASHPD probably was wherever her dream had taken place.

But she couldn't find it. The voice wanted her to go to Northern Sweden. She couldn't disobey the voice, because when she tried to her head would throb in four different places on the back of her head and she would throw up.

She didn't like throwing up, it made her nose feel strange and her stomach clench.

The weapon she held was easy enough to use. There was a little lever in front of the trigger guard that she pulled to make the magazine drop, then she put another of the seemingly endless magazines into the well, pulled back the sliding handle, checked the hammer and made sure the gun was cocked before shooting the bad people again.

And they were bad people. Chell didn't like killing them, but she had seen what they had done to other people.

And the voice wanted her to kill people too.

She was in a large room, full of crates and places to hide. There were big aeroplanes guarded by the bad people, some of them with their own guns. The planes had big guns too, with long barrels. They looked very dangerous and strong.

Chell checked the hammer of her gun, to see it was in place. Having confirmed that, she stood up from behind the crates she had been hiding behind and opened fire on two guards with their backs to her. They fell, screaming loudly over the sound of flatlines, before the others looked up and started running toward her with their guns blazing.

Chell had to be careful. She could run very fast and she was smart, but there were lots of the bad people around and they seemed to have very good training.

_Into that plane, _the voice ordered, making her eyes look toward a very big white aeroplane, _the big one._

Chell moved, running hard, ducking low as bullets ricocheted around her. She ran around behind the helicopter, looking up at the cockpit. For a split second she could've sworn she saw four black pipes sticking out of the back of her head, but it disappeared when she blinked. She shook her head, looking for a way in.

She found one, opening the door forcefully, making her way inside.

_Quickly, take off. _The voice instructed.

Chell moved for the cockpit, bullets smacking into the side of the plane from the right side. She sat down in the cockpit, her body automatically doing pre-flight tests. A window shattered.

_Shoot them._

Standing up, Chell pointed her rifle out the window and began shooting down the approaching soldiers. They fell, some of them taking cover behind large crates in the hangar.

_Get the ship out of the hangar! _The voice demanded.

Chell pulled herself back inside the cockpit, continuing the procedure. Bullets cracked the air all around the cockpit, some slamming into the walls.

The aeroplane slowly turned, heading for the large hangar doors. Obviously they were closed and being guarded by angry soldiers shooting at her.

Chell reloaded her rifle, using one hand to pilot the plane slowly toward the doors and the other to fire the gun at the guards at the door. The bullets weren't super-accurate, only killing one of the soldiers with ten bullets, but eventually they moved for cover as the plane crashed through the metal doors and out onto the long runway.

Outside, it was raining. The runway glistened in the light and rain was thumping down on the roof.

Dropping her rifle on the floor, Chell sat back down in the pilot's seat and continued trying to prepare to takeoff.

_People coming from behind._

Chell looked out the window and saw a group of maybe four soldiers riding on a bright yellow forklift, firing submachine guns at her aeroplane. Chell ignored them, brining her head back inside the cockpit.

The forklift weaved in under the aeroplane, one of the soldiers jumping onto the landing wheels. He began climbing as the forklift pulled away, accelerating to try and get in front of the plane.

The soldier reached the underside of the plane and began shooting at it with his MP7. Chell snapped her head down to look at the holes in the floor, watching as the soldier began wrenching at the metal plates, wedging his short firearm in between the floor and the plate to act as a crude wedge.

Glass shattered, causing Chell to duck and grab her rifle. She looked up and saw the windows had shattered. She checked her magazine, recocking the weapon and pointing it out of the shattered windows. Her gun's muzzle flashed brightly against the gloomy rainy morning, the bullets taking out all three soldiers on the forklift. The vehicle rolled, flipping as it veered sharply to the left, before the aeroplane crashed into it and sent its ruined frame spinning off to the side.

A loud groaning noise reminded Chell that there was still a guy on her plane. She swung her rifle around, jamming the barrel into one of the larger holes and pumping the guy underneath full of lead.

His body fell off, bouncing lifelessly on the wet runway, his blood splattering everywhere before the dripping plane and the rain washed it away.

Chell returned to the aeroplane console, looking out at the runway. She couldn't tell if there was enough room left for her to take off.

_You'd better not screw this up, Chell._

Gritting her teeth, she checked the speedometer. She'd never even flown a plane before, but somehow she knew that it needed to be going at about 180 mph to take off.

The speedo said 170.

The runway end was approaching fast, the rain blurring her vision.

180.

Chell lifted off, her rear wheels bouncing off the grass at the end of the runway as she went.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair.

_Don't relax now. This plane usually has a minimum crew of four, so you've got a lot of work to do._

Not even bothering to groan, Chell leaned forward. She did have a lot of work to do, or so her brain now told her.

—

The aeroplane was a beast to fly, incredibly difficult to use and sometimes unresponsive. Chell imagined that it had been a long time since it had last seen maintenance.

Something beeped on her radar. She frowned, looking closer at the small screen on her console. There were two red dots approaching, little lines coming off them reading their distance from her and a single word: **HOSTILE**.

Chell's eyes widened, looking at another device. She was in the airspace of Sodankyla, Northern Finland. That meant she was about a hundred and sixty kilometres from the Borealis.

She looked on the radar, selecting one of the hostile units for more details. It appeared to be a helicopter of some sort, black with two rotors and a turret.

The latter was confirmed not a moment later as loud banging sounded from the back of the plane. She was under fire.

Chell didn't have any onboard weapons and these people didn't seem like they were going to stop for her, so she decided to do the insane.

She slowed down, descending steadily. One of the helicopters came beside her, the co-pilot waving his arm to people in the cabin. The turret began swivelling on its cradle, aiming right at the cockpit.

_You're not seriously going to jump, are you?_

Chell grabbed her rifle, edging the plane closer with her other hand. The helicopter came closer, heavy fire smacking the cockpit.

Then, in a blur of motion, Chell jerked the plane sharply to the right, causing the cockpit to roll almost directly into the helicopter, and she dived out the window, holding her rifle in one hand and grabbing the landing gear of the chopper in her other.

The soldiers inside the helicopter froze for almost five seconds, allowing Chell to scramble onto the turret platform, shoot the guy dead and open the door leading inside.

Not bothering with accuracy, Chell mowed down the soldiers in the cabin, diving behind a small protrusion blocking her from those in the cockpit. She pointed her rifle around the corner, blasting the two people in the cockpit to hell.

The helicopter began bleeping incessantly, furiously demanding someone take the controls. Chell ran forward, dropping her rifle and ignoring the blood, and grabbed the controls. She looked out the windows, watching her plane slowly falling to the ground.

The second helicopter seemed to have realised Chell was in control of the first and was now firing heavy pulse rounds at her.

_Ignore them, _the voice muttered dismissively, _your mission is to get to the Borealis._

She obeyed, lowering the helicopter gently. She realised it was a lot slower than her plane had been and that it'd take about half an hour to get to Northern Sweden.

Another volley of turret fire reminded Chell she was under attack. In a brief moment of anger, she grabbed her rifle and double tapped the remaining two rounds at the cockpit of the other chopper. Surprisingly, a splatter of red painted the windows as the copilot's head exploded. The pilot ducked down, the helicopter decelerating and pulling away to the left.

Chell allowed a short smile, letting her gun clatter to the ground as she returned to the controls.

* * *

OK, I'll admit: There's not much you can do with a C-5 Galaxy in a dogfight with two Hunter-Choppers. The reason it's a C-5 is because the air base Chell is at is supposed to be the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio, the same state Aperture Science is in. The only aeroplanes this base has had for a while now are C-5s.

Also, the reason Chell seems to think a little bit like a child is because I took the liberty of assuming she had been at Aperture Science for at least ten or so years. Of course, we don't know anything about how she got there other than there was probably a 'bring-your-kid-to-work-day'. So I took poetic license and decided she was eight or nine when she went.

So tell me what you think. And also, there's probably going to be an Episode Four fic, even though Valve have said Episode Three will be the last Half Life 2 game.


	7. Six: Nocturnal Activities

**-=Chapter Six: Nocturnal Activities=-**

**11:57 PM, Mil Mi-8 Helicopter**

Barney got sick of looking up at the roof and decided to turn over and look at Gordon, lying on the ground in an old sleeping bag not far from him. "Gordon," he half whispered, half hissed, hoping his friend was awake.

"Hmm?" Was the quiet reply.

"You never told me what Aperture Science was."

Gordon turned over almost silently, the sleeping bag ruffling gently as he moved. Barney could barely make out a silhouetted outline of his face, his glasses up on the dashboard. "It was the corporate rival of Black Mesa. We were competing with each other to get government grants, and they proved to be the more reckless ones."

"So something went down the toilet?"

"Uh-huh. And that thing, or so I hear, was the Borealis."  
Barney paused. "Gordon, how come you seem to be so cut off from things everyone seems to know? I mean, where were you all these years? Still in New Mexico trying to get here?"

Gordon froze. He just remembered, nobody knew that he had been in stasis. Not Barney, not Alyx, not Kleiner or Magnusson. Not the multitude of rebels who praised him.

Not even Eli.

Well, Gordon assumed Eli hadn't known. He knew about 'their mutual friend', of course, but not Gordon's relations to him.

Gordon remembered deducing for himself he was somewhere in Europe and, according to evidence of what looked like Russian writing in City 17, an old Soviet country, possibly Romania.

Gordon took a deep breath. "Barney," he began, "I haven't been on Earth for the past twenty years."

Barney didn't say anything. "What do you mean by that?"

Gordon sighed again. "Have you heard I was sent to the alien planet Xen?"

"Yes..."

"How do you think I got back?"

"Well, the same way I did, I assumed."

Gordon frowned, albeit invisibly to Barney. "You went to Xen?"

"I'll explain that story later. Continuing your..."

"Oh, yeah." Gordon agreed. "Well, someone met me there."

"Who?" Barney inquired. "A human?"

Gordon sighed a third time. "I wish I knew. He looks it, but I've witnessed him stop time."

Barney said nothing. "Oh, no way." He whispered after his short lived silence.

"He put me in stasis. Y'know, like..."

"I know what stasis is, Gordon." Barney muttered, seemingly unhappy at either this revelation or something else. "So you've been in stasis... ever since Black Mesa?"

"Yep. You found me in City 17 about fifteen minutes after I'd appeared on a train."

Again, silence. "Man, Gordon, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Well, I never really got the chance..." Gordon tried to explain, looking to Barney.

Silence.

Impossible silence.

"Oh, please no." Gordon jammed his eyes shut, clenching his fists.

Someone chuckled quietly from above him. "Good evening, Dr. Freeman." He whispered, obviously amused at Gordon's displeasure.

"What do you want?" Gordon demanded, suddenly realising he could move. After all, he had clenched his fists. He stood up, feeling around the dashboard for his glasses. He grabbed them just as the Gman chuckled again.

"It seems that no one knew the truth, Dr. Freeman," he smiled, his face barely visible in the Arctic night. "But now, someone else has heard of the favour I have done for you."

Gordon frowned. "Favour? How do you call this a favour?"

The Gman seemed surprised. "How do you call this anything other than a favour?"

Gordon said nothing, deciding to hear the man out.

"Everything I have done," the Gman sighed, looking out the windows of the helicopter cockpit calmly, "has been beneficial to your cause, Dr. Freeman."

Gordon snorted. "You mean _your _cause."

The Gman paused, before chuckling. Louder this time. "I have only just realised you are a rather... audacious person when discussing your employment." He smiled. "Dr. Breen must have admired such a personality."

Gordon could tell he was being sarcastic. That was new. Then again, so was conversation deviating from monologue.

He sighed. "Dr. Freeman, have you ever thought deeply about the position you are in?"

Gordon laughed. "Would you, in my place?"

The Gman nodded. "Another similarity we share. Despite your slight insolence, I can see I made the right choice in employing you."

Gordon looked down at Barney. "Why are you here?"

The Gman smiled. "As expected, you made the connection between your explanation to Mr. Calhoun and my own appearance." A pause. "However, I can assure you that that was... well, partially coincidental. Don't worry, Dr. Freeman. I am not going to intervene with the path you choose to take concerning me. I just want to... warn you of some people who might take a deep displeasure at your employment."

Gordon stood in silence. "Can you answer my question?"

The Gman's smile widened. "You are not one to digress from your inquiries, are you?"

"Apparently you are when it comes to answers."

The Gman chuckled coldly, seemingly unappreciative of Gordon's attitude, "Audacity has its pros and cons, Dr. Freeman." He paused again, his tone lightening. "You asked me my reasons for interrupting your conversations."

Gordon didn't need to say anything, giving silent affirmation. The Gman continued. "I repeat that everything I have done is beneficial to your cause. However, my motives are most unclear. I assume you are wanting an explanation."

Gordon nodded.

The Gman sighed. "Unfortunately, certain... _boundaries_ have been put in place concerning such topics."

Gordon was about to interrupt with a simple objection, but the Gman didn't give him the time. "Something I _can_ tell you, Dr. Freeman, is that you are who you are. The people around you define you, as do the events in your life. I, on the other hand, do not. I make a subtle change to a scenario by adding you to the equation and you interact however you please."

Still, Gordon remained silent. "I know you desire an answer as to how you have gotten up to this point. The answer I can give you is simply... inadequate, I would assume."

Gordon had a bad feeling about this.

"The equation that is your life up to this point," the Gman concluded, "consists of a single factor known as Dr. Gordon Freeman."

And with that, the Gman left the cockpit, stepping over the sleeping rebels, Gordon sighed, slipped back into his sleeping bag and removed his glasses once more.

"Well, I guess you're right," Barney muttered. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

Gordon gave a brief _hmm_ as an answer.

Barney smiled. "Well, goodnight Gordon."

And Barney turned over to sleep.

Gordon didn't. He just lay there, feeling Alyx's side press against his feet as she turned in her sleep. Thinking, always thinking.

_The single factor in the equation of my life is... me. _

What did that mean?

_Was I right all along? Is the only thing you need to do what I do is rapid responses, a survival instinct and a gun?_

Or was there something else that crafted him?

Just because Gordon Freeman is the only factor, doesn't mean that factor wasn't defined by something else.

_Something I can tell you, Dr. Freeman, is that you are who you are. The people around you define you, as do the events in your life._

Gordon smiled, remembering Alyx's warm embrace, so different to the harsh wind and the snow outside. He could hear it now, whistling faintly.

_The people define me._

_Is the only reason I do these things for survival?_

_Or is there..._

Alyx's bright smile flashed through his head.

_...something else?_

_Is self-preservation my only concern?_

_Or is it..._

The warmth of her body...

_...coupled with defending others?_

_

* * *

_Not much different to the old version here, so original readers already know all about this. This time, however, everything is extended so things don't happen so quickly.


	8. Seven: Exemption

**-=Chapter Seven: Exemption=-**

_The door opened. Honestly, I was surprised. I didn't know how long it had been. Had it been a few fleeting moments of unwanted peace, or a lifetime of serenity without intervention from time or space?_

_A single man walked inside, his face a light green as streaks of coloured energy flew past outside. He smiled, his face cloaked in a ghastly silhouette, obscuring his thin face._

_And then he spoke, after taking a long and breath that had been aurally exaggerated to the extreme._

"It's been a while..." he looked down at me, "Mr. Shephard."

_I looked up at him, trying my hardest to relay my utter hatred of him. _

The soldiers...

_What he had done at Black Mesa... however long ago it was..._

The scientists...

_Killing all those people..._

The flash... so bright...

_What was he? A celestial being verging on omnipotence? Some sort of extra-terrestrial mercenary?_

The cold chuckle...

_Whatever he was, he had no problem with killing thousands of people._

_Clearly, this man was not one to screw around._

"What do you want?" I demanded, not thinking about the fact that I was in no position to be arrogant.

The man just stared at me, his eyes boring into mine, through my skull, into my head... "Mr. Shephard, I am here because I have decided that secrecy is no longer a problem."

I just looked at him in confusion.

"You do not seem to understand me, Mr. Shephard." The Gman smiled wider. "My employers have abandoned the objective I had been given concerning the concealment of my existence and thus removing all reasons preventing your... exemption."

_...Rather than continually subject you to the irresistible human temptation of telling all, we have decided to convey you to somewhere where you can do no possible harm..._

My eyes widened. "You mean..."

"As of this moment, Mr. Shephard." The Gman smiled. "You have been given freedom from imprisonment, provided that you comply with the terms of release."

_Terms of release?_

"What do you want me to do?" I demanded, eyes glowing. My hate for this man did not surpass my desire for freedom.

The Gman chuckled. "I trust you have not forgotten what your mission at Black Mesa was. I am simply requiring you to complete those objectives again, however..." he smiled. "Your only target is the man Dr. Gordon Freeman."

**Time and Co-Ordinates Unspecified**

A wave of the glowing humanoid was all it needed. The file opened and the Gman's voice rang out in the hall, echoing on undefined walls of wavering energy.

_Everything proceeds according to plan._

_My pawn has been convinced that I am on his side and preparations are complete. All that needs to be done is to introduce him to the other one._

_It is a shame he has to die, as he would make a good addition to our human mercenary division._

_His mission, which he now believes is winnable, will of course fail. But that is the way it has to be._

_When Dr. Freeman and Mr. Shephard do finally meet, _we_ will have met the climax of _our_ scheme._

_The Combine will fall beneath our feet._

_The matters of Mr. Calhoun and Ms. Vance are minor. As Ms. Vance plays a critical role in Dr. Freeman's progress, I am certain she will encounter no mortal danger._

_Mr. Calhoun is not critical to the plan, but his survival is, likewise, almost guaranteed thanks to Dr. Freeman's personality._

_Maybe when this is all over I will explain it to him. And he will see why I kept him off the Earth for all these years._

_The conundrum concerning the Borealis has had me confused for a short while. I was ignorant of its contents until very recently and when I — as you suggested — examined the ship and discovered what they were, I was quite honestly... baffled._

_I asked myself that if this was the secret, then how did it get there?_

_As we are all aware, the Borealis was indeed warped from the Aperture Science Dry Dock while undergoing some cheap maintenance._

_However, since the discovery of the ship's contents, I have been confused as to what did the warping._

_Were the items onboard responsible?_

_Or was it something else, from somewhere else?_

_I will be investigating this matter closer._

_Despite this riddle presented to me being interesting to research, it is irrelevant. I repeat, everything is going according to plan._

_I have done my part. Now I am sure you will win the war._

_It is critical to the survival of the human race._

_

* * *

_

Again, not much different here, Fixed up the retarded change in perspective (original one said _I _a few times then changed to _Shephard_) and yeah, that's about it.

Something I'm sure will make lots of you happy is that Shephard will get more screen time. It's screen time because unless you've printed this fic out it's on a screen.

And there will probably be him riding on a snowmobile with an M4 sometime.


	9. Eight: Subversion

**-=Chapter Eight: Subversion=-**

**7:53 AM, Kraken Base Northern Sweden**

The chopper had taken off at the first lights, which was pretty late compared to the rest of the world. It had flown, carrying the twenty two rebels, Alyx, Barney and Gordon, all the way back to Kraken Base to attack it from behind.

The rebels dismounted, holding an array of weaponry, ready to take back their base.

Gordon studied the Italian weapon in his hand. The SPAS-12 pump action shotgun had stopped being produced in 2000, a year before the world went to hell. Gordon had heard that when the Combine took over, their rulership focused on Europe instead of the human superpower of North America, they had taken over all the main weapons manufacturers there. Heckler and Koch, FN Herstal, Benelli, Beretta and others had all been turned into Combine armament factories.

The Combine had supposedly brought out redone models of old guns, most famously the one Gordon was holding right now.

Scratching his chin, Gordon stepped off the helicopter, pumping the action twice and coolly catching the ejected shell and sliding it back into the magazine. It was a habit of his, to make sure the gun was well and truly ready to blow someone's head off.

Barney dismounted, grunting briefly as he checked the hammer of his pulse rifle. Alyx followed, holding a machine pistol down by her side. Gordon had no idea what model of gun it was, but Alyx had quite specifically — albeit rather oddly — explained it was called 'the Alyx gun'.

The rebels had already found an entrance via the medium of hole in the wall and were pointing flashlights into the dimly lit interior of the base. Their beams illuminated a concrete staircase descending into the bowels of the facility which was about a metre below the surface.

Stepping aside to let him through, Gordon went in and dropped to the ground, raising his shotgun and looking around. The lighting seemed to be failing. _Something's different..._

Barney hit the ground beside him, straightening up with a frown. "This looks bad," he muttered, "didn't see this area yesterday."

Gordon looked down the staircase, activating the flashlight on his shoulder. The small globe lit up, illuminating a circle of floor leading into a flickeringly lit corridor.

Alyx walked past the two. "Come on," she insisted, heading off before them. Barney shrugged, and the two followed.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, all three of them were looking down the long curving corridor. "Ah, hell." Barney grunted.

Blood was all over the floor. The lights flickered on and off, indicating power less of some sort. Alyx looked around, eyes wide as they took in the surroundings. Shattered glass, ejected casings and even torn material covered the floor. The ground was cold. "I don't think we're going to have any luck here." Alyx admitted, taking a step back.

Gordon himself took a step forward, looking down the corridor. "Tell everyone to get back in the helicopter." He instructed eventually.

"Hey, Gordon, I don't know i—" Barney began, moving to take a step forward.

"I just want to take a quick look around." Gordon interrupted, looking around the devastated hallway, "Just to see what's been going on."

There was silence for a moment. Alyx looked at Barney, to see what he was going to do. Finally, he shrugged. "Alright, go ahead. Just make sure you come back in one piece." And he turned to leave.

Alyx watched Barney go, slowly turning to Gordon. "Are you sure?"

Gordon glanced over his shoulder. "Well, unless you want some other people to come with me... and possibly die."

His tone was stiff, but it wasn't cold. More like veiled concern. Alyx frowned slightly. "You OK, Gordon?"

A brief chuckled escaped his lips as he turned back to face the hallway. "Never better."

—

There was blood all over the floor. But that wasn't the most interesting fact about the room Gordon was now standing in.

There were Houndeye bodies on the ground.

_Now how did they get here? _Gordon asked himself. _And what are they doing here?_

He noticed they had a thick coat of fur instead of the slick flesh he remembered at Black Mesa. Apparently some adaption had been taking place.

Slowly, he took a few steps toward the middle of the room, his flashlight providing the only source of light in the lightless room. Power was gone completely here, not even a blinking halogen globe. Bright reflections from his torch bounced off more ejected casings, as well as the floor not covered in sticky blood.

Gordon brought his flashlight around, jumping when he saw something stumbling toward him. Without hesitation, he fired a round of shot into the creature's chest, causing it to stumble backwards from the force, a chunk of flesh slapping against the wall. Moaning, it wobbled forwards, groping at Gordon, who quickly cocked his shotgun and fired at the vague outline of its head. Something flew off, smacking dully against the wall, before the creature fell on its front with a soft thump.

Angling his torch down at the beast, Gordon raised an eyebrow at the sight of a Zombine, its Overwatch uniform caked in blood.

_There's something wrong here... _Gordon affirmed internally, taking a step back. Cocking his shotgun again, he headed for the door.

Something hit the ground beside him, clinking metallically as it rolled past his leg. Gordon reacted instantly, kicking the grenade like one would a soccer ball into the far left wall as loud moans came from his right and diving through the doorway, slamming the double doors shut as he scrambled to his feet and heard the muffled sound of an explosion from behind him.

—

"Soldiers," someone hissed.

Alyx looked through the cockpit windows, spotting about fifteen soldiers jogging towards them from the eastern side of the base. They began taking cover behind various objects and sections of the base itself, adjusting their aim on the helicopter.

No one moved.

Slowly, Alyx turned her head. "Get your weapons."

—

_Boom._

The Zombine's shoulder exploded, its arm falling to the ground lifelessly, the creature flopping to the floor as Gordon elbowed it hard in the chest. He glanced behind him, pointing his shotgun around to face the creature rushing at him from the rear, bringing his other arm around to cock the gun before firing. The shot blasted through the beast's body, splitting it in half from its upper abdomen down.

Continuing his escape, Gordon brought his shotgun back around and cocked it, lowering it as he ran back toward the stairs.

Reaching the stairs, he looked up at the hole in the wall at the sound of gunshots. People were shooting outside. That meant there were sold—

A bullet smacked into the back of his left shoulder, making him gasp in pain before heading back toward the bloody corridor to get away from the quickly approaching group of soldiers.

Stopping momentarily to get a better look at them, Gordon noticed some of them were bloodied up themselves and seemed to have rather sloppy aim since they'd missed his head from ten metres away.

_They're losing control of the base, _Gordon suddenly realised, _I'm guessing they've been at war with Xen aliens for a while now, judging by the dead Houndeyes and Zombines._

A bullet smacked into the hallway double doors, clanging loudly as it hit the metal. Gordon ducked behind the door, pointing his shotgun around the corner without looking and loosed a shot in the estimated direction of the soldiers. He heard a satisfying thump signifying someone had dropped dead and he quickly cocked the gun, stood up and did it again as he ran toward the group.

Another soldier dropped, clutching his chest, and the remaining two tried in vain to stop Gordon as he charged them, knocking one to the ground and clobbering the other over the head with his shotgun. The second fell, unconscious, and Gordon kicked the first in the side before bringing his gun around, pumping the action and blowing his face off.

Gordon paused briefly, taking a deep breath before looking down at the sleeping soldier. Deciding against replacing the troop's grey matter with lead shot, Gordon proceeded to ascend the stairs.

Now he couldn't decide what to do, so he pressed his mike against his mouth. "Barney, you there?"

—

Three pulse rounds. One kill.

Barney ducked down behind the cockpit main console as the enemy returned fire from their position about twenty five metres away. Suddenly his radio crackled to life. _"Barney, you there?"_

"Sure am, buddy. How goes it?" Barney answered, smiling.

"_Actually, I'm wondering what you want me to do."_

Barney snorted, checking his gun absent mindedly. "You mean other than survive?"

"_Do we have anywhere to go?"_

"Unless that base is OK, which I doubt, then no."

"_So do you want me to try and find something? A supply cache or info on Dr. Mossman?"_

"Hmm..." Barney rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Look, do what you can. If you find anything, even an outpost or something, that'd be great."

"_Good," _came the reply coupled with the _shicking _sound of shells being loaded, _"'cause otherwise I just wasted about eight shells and ten minutes of my life down here."_

—

Three soldiers, one with a bloodstained chest and all carrying submachine guns, ran down the long wide hallway with their boots clapping on the floor and their combat webbing clinking as they ran.

Through two metal double doors, the first two running straight for the room at the other end, while the third spun around to check if anyone was coming from behind.

No-one was.

But someone had been waiting behind the door.

With a loud gunshot, the soldier's innards were sprayed on the grimy metal wall behind him and he fell, clutching his stomach. The two others spun in time to see Gordon cock his shotgun and swing it around in their direction, firing again. The soldiers were both knocked to the ground, bloody flecks splattering on the floor.

With two dull thumps, the sound of a shell being ejected and a brief clinking noise, Gordon continued on toward the room at the other end.

Stopping behind the doorway, Gordon heard people talking from beyond. He ducked down, listening.

The speech came in garbled radio talk between Combine soldiers, one — who Gordon spotted while crouching down — sitting at an old bench was partially illuminated by what seemed to be a fireplace or something of that ilk.

"—e package is functioning properly?"

"_Affirmative, sir. Power failure has not interrupted the timer. We will be commencing in five minutes. Make sure you're out of there on time, sir."_

"We will be. Out."

"The timer is set for ten minutes, correct?" another voice inquired.

"Yes. Have you contacted the force combating the Resistance members?"

"They have been informed and are preparing to leave. They are unsure as to whether the Resistance members will follow them."

"And what is the information on Traitor Prime?"

"I last heard she was moved to the outpost twenty kilometres from the Borealis."

"Our orders are to go to that specific station," the first voice added. "I assume they want someone to escort Traitor Prime to a higher-security installation. Perhaps the base at the Borealis?"

The second voice was silent for a moment, possibly because the soldier was shrugging. "We will find out when we are given our orders."

_If you ever get them, _Gordon smiled to himself, standing up and walking into the room. As he had expected — and quite honestly hoped — the room was empty aside from two soldiers glowing a bright orange in front of a makeshift fireplace. "Morning, gentlemen," Gordon nodded at the soldiers as he fired at the first soldier. His shoulder exploded, blood splattering on the table before his chair splintered and broke, causing his body to fall to the ground. The second soldier had stood and reached for his sidearm but Gordon had already brought his gun around, cocked it and blown the soldier into the fireplace.

Blood trickled from the corpse as its uniform erupted in flames, and Gordon spun around to leave. However, he was stopped as a pulse round hit him in the shoulder. He grunted loudly, pulling himself back inside the room and slamming the door shut. He crouched down, hiding under the table as chunks of the wooden door flew off it, bullet holes ripping into it. Gordon glanced over his shoulder at the burning body in the fireplace, making a split second decision.

He stood up, pushing the table onto its side as he grabbed the soldier's legs. Dragging the flaming corpse over to the door quickly, Gordon tossed it in front of the doorway and dived for cover, turning the table over so as to provide some small defence.

About six seconds later, the door swung open and a soldier rushed in. He stopped, however, at the sight of the burning body. Gordon quickly blasted him into the corner of the doorway, sending his body bouncing off the wall onto the floor. Standing up, Gordon cocked his shotgun and ran over to the soldiers standing near the door, firing again. Two soldiers snapped over forwards, landing on the ground with simultaneous squelches, while the remaining soldier ducked behind the door. Gordon pumped his shotgun, coming around the corner and pointing the barrel right at the crouching so—

_Click._

His shotty was empty.

To some other people in this situation something like this would've been a fatal mistake to make. But Gordon was a genius so he improvised.

The soldier brought his gun up to fire at Gordon's chest, but Gordon simply jabbed him in the face with his shotgun muzzle, knocking him off balance long enough for Gordon to knee the ducked down soldier in the chin. He fell over backwards and hit the wall with a heavy thump, before Gordon kicked his MP7 out of the way, took a few steps back as he loaded a single shell into the magazine, cocked the gun and fired it straight into the soldier's head.

Blood and grey matter went all over the wall, redecorating the dirty white paint with red plasma and brain.

Not even bothering to go back inside the most likely burning room, Gordon took off down the hallway with his hands slipping shells into his gun.

—

The grenade exploded, sending snow and chunks of storage crates everywhere. Soldiers swore, ducking low as they ran for something else to give them cover.

Barney poked his pulse rifle through the cockpit windows, opening fire on the soldiers' barricade. They were being a complete bitch, always hiding behind the crates and stuff and occasionally coming up to shoot at them. So far, their plan wasn't working. None of the rebels were dead and about eight of the Overwatch people were.

Barney's radio crackled to life and Gordon's voice came over, so Barney ducked down below the cockpit console. _"Barney, I think I know where Dr. Mossman is."_

Barney smiled brightly to himself. "Really? Boy, that was quick."

"_And there's a bomb inside the base."_

Barney was less happy at that remark, his smile disappearing. "What? Where?"

"_I don't know, but apparently we have about twelve or so minutes before it goes boom."_

"Any idea how big the blast radius is?"

"_The guys I overheard know where you guys are, and they were sure the bomb was going to wipe you out."_

"Crap," Barney cursed, rubbing his mouth. "Alright, you get outta there, Gordon. You can tell us where Dr. Mossman is later."

"_Copy that, Barney. Later."_

Barney chuckled. "Over and out."

—

_Boom._

The soldier hit the wall with a loud thud.

_Shuk-Shik._

_Boom._

Another soldier fell, his arm blown to hell.

_Shuk-Shik._

_Skrreek._

Boots slid on cold floor as Gordon slide tackled a soldier.

_Smack._

_Thud._

The solider landed on his side.

_Boom._

His head exploded as Gordon jumped to his feet and continued running. There, at the end of the corridor. The staircase and the hole in the wall.

Gordon ran harder, gripping his shotgun tightly as...

_Whack!_

Gordon lost his balance as the claw smacked into his stomach and he went spinning into the wall, his feet falling out from under him. He hit the wall back-first, falling on his side weakly as he watched a Zombine lumbering from the shadows.

Grunting from both irritation and pain, Gordon cocked his shotgun and fired it at the Zombine's head, the headcrab flying off it. The creature fell to the ground limply and Gordon got back to his feet, wincing at the pain in his stomach. He took off again, turning his flashlight on as he got closer to the silhouetted staircase. By the time he'd reached the hole, his stomach had dulled pain-wise and he was able to scramble through the hole with ease.

Chest-down in the snow, Gordon looked around at the rebels firing at a group of soldiers not far away. He quickly got to his feet and ran for the helicopter.

Bullets began smacking into the snow around him. Wearing an orange hazard suit on a landscape of white and different shades of grey was one way to get noticed by people with guns.

The rebels also spotted him, their faces lighting up as he ran. Before long, he was at the helicopter and the rebels were following him. He looked into the cockpit at Barney, who was shooting through the windows at the enemy. "Barney!" Gordon exclaimed, his friend snapping his head around to look at Gordon. "Time to haul our asses!"

Barney nodded, turning to see Alyx — who had been on the other side of the helicopter — running into the cockpit. "Alyx, we need to g—"

"Yeah, kinda guessed that." Alyx admitted, taking control of the helicopter.

—

"So Dr. Mossman was taken to an outpost near the Borealis?" Alyx inquired.

"That's what I heard. Apparently, there's also a base near the ship itself, but the outpost seems like a good place to start because, most likely, it'll be smaller." Gordon added, leaning back in his chair.

"Actually, we don't have anywhere to stay other than this helicopter." Barney agreed. "I mean we could probably take over it and stay there a while."

"That's a go—" Alyx started, before a loud explosion interrupted her from behind the helicopter. Everyone snapped around to look out the back of the chopper. In the distance, there was a cloud of dispersing fire and a light white mist was falling.

"Bomb went off," Barney explained unnecessarily.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Captain Obvious," Gordon muttered.

"Anyway," Alyx continued, "there's probably supplies, shelter and probably even communications there. We could set up an insertion point for backup, should we need it."

"So we go looking for it?" Barney inquired.

Alyx nodded. "Exactly."

* * *

Well, something new again. Tell me if you think this was better than previous action sequences because I WAS WATCHING THE LAST FIGHT IN RAMBO 4 WHILE WRITING. Haven't seen it, go look it up right now, it's epic shit. But impossible to describe in a story, I mean so much flesh gets mangled and so many people die it'd just get monotonous. It goes for FIVE MINUTES or continuous shooting and insanity with a mounted 50 calibre turret and some AKs.

In the subject of semi-advertisement, everyone writing Half Life fanfiction should check out Combine OverWiki. It's seriously the best resource I have and gives STACKS of info on canon, weapons, characters, locations and almost everything (Including Portal).

So if you're writing stuff like me, check both these things out cause they help a lot (not actually sure about the first one, but the second IS A DEFINITE)


	10. Nine: Antagonism

**-=Chapter Nine: Antagonism=-**

**Borealis, 8:31 AM**

An entire platoon of heavily armed Overwatch soldiers, all wearing white and grey snow camo, stood by the large ship, standing on the recently constructed bridge joining the two sides of the crevasse. It was made of jet black metal, was about five metres wide and crossed over to both sides of the steep icy underground walls.

The side they had come from led into an underground Combine fortress, set up to guard the Borealis from any attack that the Resistance could throw at them. Turret platforms had been set up on the vast collection of wide ledges on this side of the fissure to defend the ship from aerial insertion, and foot soldiers and temporary walls had been set up to stop any ground attack.

The side they were on had the Borealis lodged in the ice, secured in place by thick metal clamps that had themselves been dug deep into the ice to ensure the large ship did not dislodge itself and fall into the abyss.

A soldier knelt down in front of the Borealis, at the spot where the bridge ended. Carefully, he pulled a blowtorch from his webbing, ignited the flame and began cutting the thick metal hull.

With silent anticipation, the soldiers stood by, holding their various smallarms tightly in gloved hands. Glowing sparks flew everywhere, bouncing on the metal bridge and off the Borealis' painted hull, the light reflected in the empty eyepieces of the waiting soldiers' masks.

At last, the soldier reached the bottom of the hull with his flame and he stood back up, a faintly glowing semi-circular line about a metre and a half high now left to cool off. He turned to the unit's Commanding Officer, who gave a sharp nod.

The soldier turned back around, bringing his booted foot into the side of the hull. The metal groaned disapprovingly as the soldier continued his assault, before finally it gave way and the soldiers poured in, taking up their positions inside the ship. The CO followed, standing in the entrance for a few moments, and he realised it was slightly colder than outside.

With a wave of his hand, his men headed up the metal stairs in front of them, their firearms pointing in all directions and their boots clanging loudly as they went.

The CO looked around, taking in his surroundings. They had busted into what looked like an engine room, or so the large machines connected to the floor and the computer consoles showing different gauges told him. There were those old diesel-electric propulsion systems down here, as well as some other various pipes and valves.

He took a few steps around, holding his rifle close to his body.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from the top of the stairs, on the metal walkway it connected to. A soldier began yelling in his earpiece over the racket. _"Sir, we've found something!"_  
"Report!" the CO ordered, a loud whining noise coming from behind a metal barricade to the officer's right.

There was something on the other side that was killing his men.

"_There's li—"_

The line went dead, a flatline echoing in the CO's ears. There was no female voice around to give details of his death, not since the destruction of the Citadel and consequently the Overwatch Voice.

The only thing to give the officer any indication some serious shit was going down was the sound of gunfire and screams as what sounded like metal being impaled in flesh echoed in the confined space.

The CO ran for his soldiers, his rifle pressed against his shoulder ready to attack whatever it was killing his people. Up the stairs, onto the metal walkway...

Where upon he saw his men, empty casings bouncing off the walkway, getting slaughtered by—

_Bang._

The CO's head exploded, a single bullet having flown through it from behind. His decapitated body fell to the walkway, the perpetrator running down the stairs holding a smoking Colt Python revolver.

He was smiling at how efficient he was.

Gordon Freeman wasn't going to see the end of this week, if Adrian Shephard had anything to say about it.

**8:27 AM**

Shephard didn't remember ever being on a cold ship in a cold bed, wrapped in a cold blanket that smelt of blood. Slowly, he rose from the old mattress and looked around the dim room he had found himself in.  
From the little light there was he could make out a desk, a doorway surrounded by thin lines of light streaming from beyond, and something silvery on the desk, glinting weakly in the minute amount of light.

More out of curiosity than anything else, Shephard moved his hand over the silver object on the wooden desk, smiling thinly when his hand curled around the six-chamber cylinder of a revolver. Picking it up, he moved over to the door, feeling around for the doorknob. Having found it, he swung the door open and looked closer at the gun. It was a Colt Python, .357 Magnum bullets. Opening the loading gate revealed the gun had all six bullets unfired.

With a smile, Shephard closed the loading gate and cocked the gun. He didn't know where he was, but the boat wasn't moving so he assumed it was stopped somewhere, assumedly somewhere snowy.

Looking around at the dim lights and the blood stained walls, Shephard guessed this ship was deserted. The walls were rotting, paint was flaking and it all smelt horrible. There was also something crackling with what sounded like incoherent words shoved into the middle, and the temperature was probably below zero judging by the icy breath floating from his mouth.

Not wanting to stick around for much longer, Shephard decided to head for the bridge. At least, he was about to. When he heard loud thumping coming from below, he stopped. He turned around, holding the revolver casually, and took a few steps toward the engine room stairs. After a final loud bang there was the sound of boots on metal floor and ruffling of clothing.

People were inside.

Curious, Shephard headed for the stairs that lead down to a walkway in the engine room. Waiting at the top of the stairs revealed masked infantry down in the engine room, holding shotguns and automatic rifles, speaking in garbled English. The distortion seemed to be because of something in the masks, most likely voice alteration devices.

Soldiers ran up the engine room stairs, onto the walkway connected to the stairs Shephard was on. They ran down another set of stairs leading back to the floor, before suddenly they began screaming and loud mechanical flatlines began echoing in the enclosed metal space.

Shephard decided he didn't really want to find out what was doing that to them, so he quickly headed for the walkway and the exit thereof.

An officer ran up the stairs, holding a futuristic looking rifle in his hands, who didn't seem to notice him. Shephard quickly put a bullet in his head and ran.

—

Standing outside, his body taking in the freezing wind that was whistling around his ears, Shephard gazed at what would be described as a winter wonderland if it actually was one. However, the proper description he thought to give it was mountains made of ice surrounding him on all sides. He appeared to be on a bridge suspended in the middle of a wide crevasse, of which he could see all the sides.

From what he could estimate, it was about three or four kilometres long, about two and a half hundred metres wide and some insane depth he couldn't even guess.

So there he stood, on a long metal bridge in the freezing cold with his nose reddening behind his gasmask. He had no idea where he was supposed to go and there seemed to be only one escape route and that was a large barricaded hole in the other side of the crevasse — he had not been expecting there to be a gate blocking his progress, but he also hadn't been expecting to come out of a boat stuck in one side of an icy crevasse and see a bridge suspended above a bottomless pit leading over to the other side.

There were two tall towers in this hole, assumedly guard towers. Shephard could see turrets set up along the icy cliffside, with their own little holes leading into the ice. He guessed they were accessible from inside the base he was certain lay beyond the barricaded hole.

And all he had was a revolver.

Shephard didn't recognise the masked soldiers who had just been shredded back on the ship, but because he didn't know anything about the world whenever this was — which according to what he knew could've been the year 3000 — he just decided that he wouldn't give them a chance to kill him.

He wasn't very happy with that man. He'd been given about as much information about his mission as a child does when inquiring how babies are made. All he knew was that Gordon Freeman was somehow still alive and he had to kill him.

Shephard looked up at the sky, far above him. "Thanks for the details!" He yelled.

"Your sarcasm is noted." The Gman replied semi-curtly from beside him.

Shephard glanced over his shoulder and spotted the smiling fiend. He was holding an M4A1 by his side. "You want more information as to what is happening, no?" The Gman continued. "I believe I'm capable of explaining things to you."

Shephard looked down at the rifle in his hand. "That for me?"

The Gman chuckled. "Of course." He passed the gun to Shephard, who took it eagerly. "After all, relief from your weapons was only temporary."

Shephard released the magazine, checking the bullets. It was full. "Got any spare mags?" he asked anyway. "Or didn't you take them from me?"

The Gman gestured for him to check. "See for yourself."

Shephard checked the pouches on his combat webbing, surprised to find they were full of thirty round STANAG magazines.

Shephard smiled briefly at the gun. Gas operated — meaning when the hammer hit the primer and fired the bullet, the high pressure gases pushed the bolt carrier back and therefore made the empty case fly out — selective fire including full auto and 5.56mm bullets that could kill a man up to 500 metres away.

He looked up at the Gman as he slung the rifle over his shoulder. "What were you saying? About an explanation...?"

The Gman gave a short nod of his head, reaching into his suit and pulling out a single folded sheet of paper. He passed it to Shephard, who took it cautiously. "This should give you... an adequate account."

Shephard cocked his head slightly. "Can you at least tell me what year it is?"

"According to the Gregorian calendar, it is the year 2021."

"Right..." Shephard nodded slowly.

There was a brief pause.

"Evidently you still suspect me." The Gman broke the silence casually. "I promise that everything on that sheet of paper, and the testimony I have given concerning your mission, is truth."

After sliding the paper into his webbing, Shephard looked back up to see the Gman had left. Just like that, he had disappeared like vapour in this frigid wind.

Shephard sniffed, turning around and cocking his rifle. _Looks like I've got some people to kill. _

—

The tool hooked onto the top of the gate easily, allowing Shephard to haul himself onto the gate by effectively walking up the side. After getting a good hold on the ledge, he climbed over and crouched down inside the left tower — left from his point of view on the bridge, that is.

Fortunately for him, the guard towers were plated with chest-high plates of metal. He guessed this was so a sniper or whoever was usually up here could duck down for cover or to reload.

How fortunate for him.

After slipping his rifle from his back with professional silence and checking it a second time, he flicked the fire selector to semi-automatic and propped the rifle up on the metal plates. Shephard looked down the sights, moving the gun along the edge of the plate as he scanned the area below. No one, the area was empty.

Satisfied, Shephard stood up. He stayed ducked down, bent low. Looking over the side of the tower revealed a ladder on the platform connected to it. The gate was pretty high, about four or so metres, so he quietly placed his feet on the top rungs and lowered himself to the ground.

After hitting the ground with a soft thump, Shephard snuck over to the left corner of the large room he had found himself in. It was mainly empty, save for some large stacks of crates and other things one would find in a utilitarian place as this. There were even two large black forklifts on the right side in front of two big metal doors leading somewhere Shephard couldn't see and didn't really care about.

He was certain there would be a way out, but he'd have to find it. Sneaking around on foot seemed to be his best option, so he quickly headed for a double door on the opposite side of the room.

—

Having scaled the stairwell he had found inside the small hole, Shephard had found himself at a second door, another big double one. Through the dirty glass panel in the door, Shephard could make out the blurred figure of a masked soldier.

Checking his ammo and flicking to fully automatic, Shephard grunted softly and opened the door calmly. If he had busted the door open forcefully, the soldiers inside probably would've been alerted. Opening the door as any normal person usually warranted that no one look up from what they were doing unless they were curious.

Two people looked causally up at Shephard, before tensing up when they saw him and as their chests became acquainted with numerous metal slugs.

Papers flew everywhere, shredded by the intense fire. Soldiers dived among gunfire, some of them not making it to the ground without bullets getting in their way.

Suddenly, orange streaks were coming out of Shephard's M4 along with bullets. Quickly, he dived behind an olive green fling cabinet, released the almost empty rifle and reloaded it. He'd known he was running low on ammo when he saw the tracer bullets. It was something he'd been taught to do at the Santego Military Base, to load tracers as the last few bullets so soldiers knew when they were running low.

Wrenching back the loading handle, Shephard stood back up, resting his gun on top of the cabinet. Shephard opened fire on the remaining soldiers who had, by now, grabbed their weapons and were taking cover behind identical filing cabinets, some of which had been knocked on their side.

Quickly, he ducked down again and checked his grenade launcher. Seeing as it was empty, he popped open one of the pockets of his combat webbing and reloaded it. Standing up again, Shephard aimed the launcher at the wall, seeing as the grenade could fly as far as 150 metres and that would be _way _too far. If he aimed at the window, it might go straight through. So he aimed at the wall, readjusted his grip so his right hand was on the trigger and fired. A loud whump noise followed by a searing blast of heat and light from the other side of the room signified the grenade had exploded. Shephard ducked down, holding one of his hands up to stop the cabinet he was behind falling on him. After propping it back up and standing, Shephard spotted a charred body lying on the security console. _Looks like that took care of them, _he thought to himself grimly as he walked over to the wall mounted console.

Thankfully, the words were in English so he could read everything. On the other hand, there was some sort of security thing needed to access the full map.

Shephard looked over at the dead soldiers, the ones he'd shot. There appeared to be a sort of electronic card hanging limply by one of the soldier's legs. Shephard hurriedly ducked down and grabbed the card, unclipping it from the soldier's webbing. It had a small droplet of blood on it, but Shephard doubted that would matter.

Having obtained the card, Shephard looked around for somewhere to put it. He saw what looked like a scanner in the form of a red light, so he pressed the card against it to see what happened. Nothing, except for a small negative boop.

He tried the other side, and the machine beeped twice, before a screen with more options appeared. A map with extra spots coloured red also appeared. Smiling to himself, he looked for an exit.

—

Back in the large storage room or whatever it was, Shephard noticed that one of the forklifts was missing. Also, two soldiers were now standing on the gate, scanning the area. Shephard quickly snuck over to behind a cluster of crates, when suddenly he heard people yelling from behind him.

"Subject confirmed!"

"Affirmative, we got him now."

_So much for stealth. _Shephard thought, turning around. There was a group of five or so soldiers running toward him, two of them in the forklift that had disappeared.

One of the crates he was hiding behind exploded violently coupled with the crack of a supersonic bullet. Shephard stood quickly and ran back toward the door, a blue laser swinging around to point at the door as he slammed it shut. From the other side, Shephard tensed as a heavy calibre round tore through the door, smacking into the concrete wall and embedding itself in it.

These guys were using some powerful rifles.

Shephard rushed up the stairs, through the security room door he had — very fortunately, in retrospect — left wide open, slammed it shut so hard he was scared it would fall off its hinges and ran over to the console. He hurriedly whipped out his card, pressed it against the red scan and...

_Boop._

"Son of a bitch..." Shephard cursed angrily, flipping the card and pressing the right side down, this time coupled with an affirmative beep.

Quickly accessing the map files again, Shephard scanned over it, looking for an alternative way out. Otherwise he'd have to hole himself up in this tower for some ridiculous amount of time and his ammo wasn't unlimited.

A loud crash came from the foot of the stairs, making Shephard growl in frustration. Then he paused, eyes widening. Slowly, he peered out through the glass windows. The floor, about seven or so metres down. It was also unoccupied, except for two soldiers and the forklift he'd seen earlier.

Shephard had an idea.

—

The Combine soldiers kicked the security room door down with their combat boots, their gun barrels following close behind. The room was empty, save for some bodies and a shattered glass window. The soldiers ran over to the window and looked out. There was a single body there, surrounded by a puddle of blood.

"Threat eliminated." The ranking officer reported smugly on his radio.

_Wouldn't that make your day? _Shephard thought to himself as he stood up from behind a filing cabinet, firing a grenade at of one of the soldier's back.

Fire erupted from the explosive, shredding the poor soul who had been hit by it and toasting everyone else. A jet of red hot flame poured from the hole in the window, spraying charred debris all over the floor below and tossing two smouldering bodies out with it.

Shephard ran out the door, heading back to the storage area.

—

_Oh, hell no._

A whole platoon of soldiers was running toward him. Plus, there were two snipers up in the guard towers.

Shephard was screwed.

Or at least, he thought he was. Then his eyes glanced over at the remaining forklift, and he smiled. _Thank you, God._

He stood up from his hiding place behind a tower of metal boxes and ran. Bullets began hitting the ground all around him, most of them staying about four metres from him but some lucky shots actually got within a foot. And of course he was being followed by two angry snipers.

Not even bothering to slow down when he reached it, Shephard grabbed onto the sidebar of the forklift and swung himself inside, starting it up and flooring the accelerator. The vehicle drove a hell of a lot faster than he had been expecting, but that was good.

So now he had two feet on the pedals, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand firing his M4. His aim was pretty shocking, but then again he was firing one handed while driving a forklift. Fortunately the soldier group only thinned out after two of them had been shot by his military technique known commonly as spray and pray.

Orange streaks again, this time telling Shephard to stop shooting and put the gun behind his back. He continued driving, but not toward the exit — the soldiers were there, after all. He took the long way around, before turning right toward the double doors leading up to the security room.

And the only thing Combine soldiers shooting at him could do was watch as he ploughed through the doors and began his bumpy ascent of the stairs.

—

"_Where did he go?"_

"Sir, it appears he went up to the security room of Sector B."

"_And what are you doing to stop him?"_

"We've already sent soldiers up to ge—" The soldier was interrupted by the cataclysmic sound of multiple glass panes shattering and machines exploding, coming from the security tower. The soldier snapped his head around just in time to see a large yellow _forklift _occupied by a green clad individual crash into the ground, having driven through the security room wall into mid air!

Amazingly, the forklift stayed intact. The only thing that actually happened was the entire chassis snapped in numerous places and the wheels burst violently, but otherwise it was fine. The soldier climbed from the ruin, pointing his rifle at the soldier at a speed anyone would think impossible from someone who had just fallen seven and a half metres and firing the last of his tracers at the soldier. Orange bullets met red blood, both of them pasting themselves on the wall.

Shephard charged over to the first forklift, reloading his gun as he went, silently praising his PCV and the morphine now coursing through his body. This time, he slowed down to get in the forklift, but after he was in he wasted no time in spinning the vehicle, tyres squealing loudly as he rocketed down the wide hallway, leaving a trail of burning metal, shattered glass and bodies in his wake.

—

The exit — or entrance, depending on what perspective you look at it from — was on full alert. They had reports of a nutcase soldier who was trying to escape and they had been ordered to prevent him doing so at all costs.

What they hadn't been told was he was in one of the diesel-electric powered forklifts with an M4A1 assault rifle.

Chest high sandbag walls had been put in place as a means to defend the soldiers. But really, they didn't do much when they were being rammed by a forklift.

Any other vehicle might not have made it through these barricades, but the two prongs on the forklift made sure to get any obstacle out of its way.

Oh, and the angry soldier with the gun was also a bit of a pain in the ass.

Soldiers threw whatever they could at him: Bullets, pulse rounds, grenades, you name it. But most of the time they either missed or the rounds just bounced off.

Shephard was going nuts himself, swinging his gun around with such speed and firing with such intensity he was afraid his arm would fall off. But what kept him going was his combat vest, they fact that he was in a forklift and the torrents of blood and meat that went flying every time he crashed through a sandbag wall.

Suddenly, something smacked right into his left shoulder, thrusting it backwards and causing him to swing the steering wheel around uncontrollably, veering around crazily. One soldier who didn't move fast enough got his face pasted onto the front of the forklift and his body was left to rot on the ground.

Out of some sort of insane coincidence, Shephard hit a large blast door — the one that was the exit — and the forklift simply tore a large chunk of metal off it.

As bullets smacked the ground around him, Shephard looked at his shoulder. It was bleeding and it was burning, so that told him he'd been shot. But he couldn't focus on that now, especially since there was about to be a thousand soldiers breathing down his neck.

Gazing at the ruined door through the green lenses of his gasmask, Shephard climbed from his forklift — among bullets and all types of shit — and scrambled through the hole.

Adrenalin pushing him forward, Shephard stumbled up the ramp to the surface, looking over his shoulder occasionally to see if anyone was coming. No one ever did.

When he reached the surface, he found there was a large metal shed nearby. Hoping there would be some sort of vehicle inside, Shephard walked over to it.

After opening the large metal garage door, he found an empty room. At least, it was empty of people. There were four snowmobiles waiting for him.

He smiled. Maybe that man wasn't such an asshole.

* * *

He's mean, he's fast, he's good. This is what I can do with Shephard and fast vehicles.

In the original version of this chapter, it was coupled with Gordon and Alyx going to the prison to rescue Dr. Mossman. I guess Shephard didn't get enough time and everything happened too fast, so here's the better version. And yes, I know you can't drive a forklift though a computer console and land seven and a half metres down without dying, but I sacrifice reality for the thrill of the chase.

And also, in the original chapter Emancipation, there was this section in big bold letters saying REDO REDO REDO. I found it by accident, and I felt like a complete retard. I think it's still there, if you want to check it out. But seriously, if you see something like that, PLEASE TELL ME.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	11. Ten: Intelligence

**-=Chapter Ten: Intelligence=-**

**9:14 AM, Arctic location near Combine Outpost**

The helicopter had taken the group of rebels all the way to a Combine outpost hidden in a valley, surrounded from two sides by a large mound of snow. It had landed silently at the foot of the south-western mound, where the occupants had jumped out carrying a large collection of weapons. Gordon had taken the lead, holding his shotgun confidently.

The plan was simple: Do some heavy damage from a distance, rush in, kill the survivors, steal whatever possible and try to set up a small base with what was left.

Gordon looked over his shoulder at the eight or so men holding RPG-25's. A laser-guided variant of the widely-used RPG-7, the Combine had inadvertently done the Resistance a favour when it redesigned these weapons, simply because they could be stolen from any old soldier with one.

"You need a cigar, Gordon." Barney chuckled to himself.

"Sorry?" Gordon looked back at Barney in confusion.

"A cigar." Barney repeated.

Gordon snorted. "Hell no, I don't smoke."

"No, I know..." Barney admitted, "but you'd look pretty badass with one."

Gordon was silent for a moment, before he burst out laughing. "You are nuts, you know that?"

"I think the correct term is awesome, Gordon."

Gordon looked at his watch, shaking his head with a broad grin on his face. He had recently corrected the time on it, because before it had been about twenty years slow.

_9:15_

Gordon gave a brief wave of his hand, motioning for the rocket boys to move in. They did, scrambling around the corner, crouching quickly before opening fire on the base.

The base itself wasn't very big._ About the size of White Forest Inn,_ Gordon thought. So when eight laser-riding rocket propelled grenades slammed into various points of the outpost, bodies flying through the light of the Arctic morning, the Combine soldiers stationed there wet themselves.

"Go go go!" Gordon yelled, crouching low, shotgun cocked. He heard Barney and everyone else running behind him, his feet crunching on the snow.

Gordon took a brief glance up at the top of the mound to his left, smiling as he saw two small pipe-like objects sticking over the top.

Snipers.

Two of them, specially selected for the job. White Forest had about six Overwatch rifles in their possession, plus an Arctic Warfare Magnum rifle Alyx had brought along. The rebels had taken two of the Combine ones, and now the time to use them had come.

Gordon could hear the resounding cracks from both their rifles and the bullets breaking the sound barrier. Combine soldiers began falling, most deciding to take cover in the now-pitiful excuses for buildings, some of which had been so messed up that a homeless man would turn his nose up at them.

Nothing had caught fire — the wind had taken care of that — but most things had lost a wall, or part of one anyway. Large holes in walls coupled with the remains of mediocre quality bricks belched out smoke, the front of the outpost already hit for six.

Obviously a large amount of men had been eradicated in the sudden rocket attack and the snipers up on the mound had picked off anyone not quick enough to take cover. Now there was no one to be seen, probably because they were all taking cover. Smart move.

The group was about ten metres from the closest buildings now. Gordon's feet crushed the snow beside an armless soldier, his body scorched from what Gordon assumed, judging by the missing limb, a direct hit.

Suddenly, a soldier stuck a pulse rifle out from behind what was probably a doorway and opened fire. Gordon spotted it instantly and he dropped to the ground, getting off a shot before scrambling out of the way.

The building he was taking cover behind — even though 'behind' was actually the front from the rebels point of view — had a large hole in the wall at chest height, the bricks still smouldering. Gordon cocked his gun, poking his head inside to see in and spotted two soldiers waiting for him.

He wrenched his head back as three bullets cracked the air in front of him, whizzing off into the distance. Gordon exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead with his arm.

He noticed Alyx crouching nearby, holding her machine pistol close to her body. He kept an eye on her as he pulled a grenade from his webbing, pulled the pin and tossed it inside, crouching down as he heard the soldiers inside yelling various curses and frantic yells to get the hell out before the explosion silenced them. A few chunks of burnt debris flew out over Gordon's head, landing neatly on the snowy ground a few metres away.

Gordon moved over to Alyx, who heard him coming. She turned — half expecting it to be a Combine soldier — and smiled when she recognised him. "Hey, what's up?"

"Not much," Gordon admitted, nodding at the hole in the wall. "Care to join me?"

Alyx's smile widened, looking back around the corner of the wall. "Hold on," she fired a short burst, followed by a sharp flatline. "Yep, let's do this."

Gordon nodded, turned around and stood up, pointing his shotgun inside. A fleeing soldier got the left side of his mask — and his face — blown off by the wave of shot.

Gordon pulled himself in, ducking down as he hit the concrete floor. He'd been expecting floorboards or something of that sort, but he rethought that and decided it wouldn't be very logical.

Alyx followed, landing with infinitely more grace, holding her gun out in front of her. Gordon moved, ducking low, through to the other side of the building. It looked like some sort of kitchen on the other side.

He stopped, sliding behind the bench, his boots scraping on the concrete. Alyx followed suit, apart from the whole sliding bit.

Gordon nodded at her, pumping his shotty, before the two simultaneously rose and opened fire on whatever poor soul was standing there.

It turned out to be two poor souls, one in the doorway — whose back turned into a crimson tossed salad — and the other beside him, MP7 pointed out a shattered window, who got a burst of small calibre bullets in the neck.

Gordon jumped over the bench — Alyx staying a little back — and he quickly scooped up the soldier's MP7 with his free hand, switching his shotgun to his left, and fired full auto one handed into the building opposite him.

One soldier noticed him but instead looked past him and fired a single pulse round at Alyx, holding the gun close to its body so as to absorb recoil.

Gordon realised what the soldier was doing and quickly put an arm across Alyx's chest, pulling her right shoulder backwards so that she stumbled out of the way, watching Gordon take the round in the chest. He growled, wincing, as he pointed his shotgun single-handedly at the offender and blew his head off.

Alyx didn't have time to admire the move, only to give a brief 'thanks' before assisting with the soldiers holed up in the other building.

Suddenly, Barney came crashing through the middle of the two buildings, backed by three rebels, his pulse rifle blazing. The remaining soldiers in the building were riddled with rounds, dancing like ragdolls as their life drained away.

Gordon nodded at Barney as he headed toward the shattered windows on the opposite building, jumping through one like some sort of ninja burglar, holding his shotgun.

A soldier fired at him, but not before Gordon did... and realised he'd forgotten to pump the action. A few bullets went into his shoulder, Gordon yelping in pain as he dived to the floor, noticing Barney and some rebels rush in and take care of the bastard.

Gordon lay on the floor, breathing deeply. "Is that... all of them?" he asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, I think so." Barney grinned widely. "How's your arm? I saw you get hit."

Gordon exhaled loudly, scratching his nose and adjusting his glasses. "I'm OK."

Barney chuckled. "Good thing you got that suit, huh?"

"Don't I know it," Gordon winked, watching as Alyx came in through the door. "Hey," she looked him in the eye, smiling even brighter than Barney. "Thanks for the save back there."

Gordon smiled, "No worries."

Gunfire interrupted them from somewhere past them, coming from their right. "OK," Barney exclaimed, hoisting his pulse rifle, "Looks like we still got some..."

A loud gunshot echoed out through the valley, almost blocking out the sound of a soldier hitting the ground with a lifeless _whump_.

Barney shrugged, lowering his gun casually. "Or we could wait for the snipers."

Suddenly, another gunshot. This time, there was no conjugation between the gunshot and a soldier falling. Barney looked out the door, over at the ledge. "Aw, crap," he breathed, ducking back inside.

"What's happening?" Gordon demanded anxiously.

"The snipers've been attacked," Barney growled as another shot reverberated through the valley. "The second one's givin' 'em hell, but his friend's dead. Down on the ground."

A fourth shot. By now everyone was looking at the snipers.

Gordon smiled, his brain coming up with something to do. Alyx noticed his devious grin appearing and she raised her eyebrows. "What are you thinking?" she asked slowly, watching him detach something from his back. "You can't be serious." She muttered as he pulled it off.

"Oh, but I am."

—

Jabbing the butt of his rifle at the Combine soldier, the second sniper looked down at his dead comrade, teeth gritted.

"You little piece of..." he growled, slamming the stock into the officer's hip. The soldier was unarmed, but was trying to lunge at...

Something whizzed past his head, almost like a military glow-stick. The sniper almost stopped, but instead he backed away slowly, watching the officer follow...

Another something whizzed past, but this time it was met by an obstacle known as Combine right temple and brain.

Grey liquid began squirting out of the wound, the soldier falling to the ground, its brain dead before its heart was.

The sniper looked down at the now faintly smoking outpost, before raising his gun and looking down the scope.

On the other end, Gordon smiled and gave a casual wave at the soldier.

The soldier waved back, beaming a big 'THANK YOU!' to Gordon.

Gordon lowered the crossbow, looking at it with a sigh.

"I don't think I remember you getting this," Alyx admitted with a chuckle. "What's the story?"

Gordon laughed. "Oh, I found it on my way to Nova Prospekt," he paused, "next to a rebel missing a face," he added with a tone lacking the earlier enthusiasm.

"Right..." Alyx nodded.

Gordon looked back at the other building, specifically the kitchen. "What does the Combine eat, anyhow...?" he pondered aloud, walking out into the middle section, before something hit him — hard and sharp — in the left leg. He toppled as his legs were knocked from beneath him, looking down the gap between both buildings to see two soldiers climbing from some sort of vehicle. Barney, Alyx and the rebels were outside immediately, firing their various weapons at the soldiers.

They never had a chance.

The Combine, I mean.

Down they went, missing all sorts of essential body parts.

Alyx went to help Gordon up, noticing his leg where the bullet had hit. She looked into his eyes. "Can you feel anything?"

Gordon nodded. "Something's in my leg, but the morphine's numbing the pain..." his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Alyx moved closer, but Barney halted her. "He's taken five bullets today." He explained, "three in the shoulder just before."

Alyx looked up at Barney. "Good thing we're staying here for a while," she muttered eventually. "I'll bring the chopper over and set some defences up."

Barney nodded. "Good idea."

—

"Ugh," Gordon's vision returned slowly. "What's going on?"

He was lying in a bed, a medic standing next to him with his hands on his hips. The medic looked at him with a slight frown on his face. "I'm surprised you're still alive, to be honest."

"What happened?" Gordon asked, looking over at the medic wearily.

"You got shot. Multiple times."

"Yeah, no shit." Gordon grumbled. "I mean the mission."

"Oh," the medic muttered. "Well, we've found some useful information."

Gordon sat up suddenly. "Really?"

The medic grabbed his shoulders, slowly laying him down again. "Dr. Freeman, you've been out for five hours. I've been wondering if it's safe to do surgery on you because," the Medic looked at a clipboard lying on a bench nearby "you have more bullet wounds than holes in a piece of Swiss cheese."  
Someone knocked on the door. "Yes, come in," the medic announced.

Alyx opened the door. "How are you, Gordon?"

"Confused," he admitted with a smile. "Where am I exactly?"

"The Combine outpost." She explained. "This is the medical facility."

"So you've been using Combine stuff on me...?" Gordon asked the medic.

"You should be thankful." The medic grunted. "That stuff is amazingly good. Why, an hour of rest and you'll be as good as new."

Gordon nodded. "Thanks for that,"

The medic smiled. "You are quite welcome. Now, excuse me. I have to look after another patient."

Alyx watched the man walk off. She looked at Gordon. "Mind if I sit down?"

Gordon motioned with his hand to do so. "Be my guest."

Alyx sat herself down on the edge of the bed, smiling at Gordon. "Did you hear about the discovery?"

Gordon shuffled, moving to a more comfortable position. "Yeah, I did. What is it?"

Alyx's smile widened. "Dr. Mossman isn't here. But," she added quickly, noticing Gordon's expression change, "we _know_ where she is."

Gordon's eyebrows rose, before he too smiled widely. "That's great! Where is she?"

"The bigger base you mentioned. She was transferred only recently, when the soldiers here got word that the Superportal was down."

"And how is she? Or don't we know?"

"We don't know," Alyx agreed. "But we do know she's alive and well. Apparently, the Combine didn't even attack her. Maybe she's intended as bait."

Gordon nodded. "How big is this base?"

"Oh, about the size of..." she paused, thinking of a comparison. "Black Mesa East, maybe?"

Gordon nodded. "Alright. I'll go in myself."

Alyx frowned, looking at him. "What are you talking about?"

"If we attack with only twenty soldiers, Barney, you and I, we'll get our asses handed to us."

Alyx nodded slowly. "But, Gordon..."

"Alyx." Gordon looked her in the eye. "You said it yourself. I'm an amazing person who can do amazing things."

_And the Gman kind of confirmed this last night._

Alyx looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"Alyx, I broke into Nova Prospekt by myself."

Alyx smiled weakly. "But you needed me to get you out."

Gordon nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'd probably be dead if it wasn't for you."

A pause.

"Alyx, do..."

"Gordon, you know I'd love to come with you."

Gordon smiled, lying back. "Thanks."

Alyx stood up. "I'll let you rest." She told him, moving for the door. "Sleep well, Gordon."

* * *

Nothing super epic, but whatever. Next chapter focuses some more on Chell and... it's in 2021 for once. Not sure of the details yet (haven't even started it) but I know the basic outline and I'm sure you'll all enjoy it.


	12. Eleven: Intrusion

**-=Chapter Eleven: Intrusion=-**

**8:30 AM, Borealis**

_Must build..._

_Build..._

_Build..._

_What was that?_

The lights flickered on briefly, illuminating a horrifically thin bony face. The owner stood suddenly, looking around.

_Someone is in here._

The person moved toward the door, activating a console on the wall beside. The cracked screen illuminated, giving unsatisfactory light to the dim room. A single red dot was moving around in one of the sailor's quarters. Eyes thinning malevolently, the single soul was about to open the door, when suddenly there was a loud noise from below. Looking down, the individual heard more of the noise, realising it was the muffled sound of boots hitting metal.

And then, a flood of red dots poured onto the screen, having come from the side of the ship into the engine room.

_Engine room._

_Activate them._

With the swift press of a button, a large group of green dots appeared on the other side of the engine room, behind a wall opposite the red dots. Some of the red dots were ascending the outline of metal stairs, covering the walkway.

Then the green dots moved.

Green collided with red, both of them bouncing violently off each other. Red dots began disappearing, some of them splitting into smaller pinpoints of red light.

_Success._

Sudden movement from the first red dot.

Dull eyes snapped over to watch the red dot. It was running, down the stairs into the engine room. A hoarse laugh escaped the person's lips.

But the red dot didn't stop, nor did it disappear. What the computer depicted was the red dot terminating another, before leaving through the hole in the side of the ship.

_Escapee._

_Must not allow escapee to escape._

The individual wrenched the creaky door open, storming into the barely lit hallway beyond. A brief flash of halogen light lit up the person's tattered orange clothing before blinking off like irresolute stars.

—

Eyes now accustomed to constant darkness peered out across a blindingly white crevasse through cracked and foggy windows. The woman blinked quickly, rubbing her eyes and brushing strands of neglected hair from her face.

From what she could see, the intruder was a human and was wearing green clothing. She watched as he stood outside, looking around at the sight. Then he turned his eyes to the heavens, and somehow he had an assault rifle in his hands.

The woman frowned, rubbing her eyes again. Had she blinked? Was this human really that quick?

She shrugged, decided just to watch him as he headed for the Combine base. Of course, she couldn't follow him. After all, she was unarmed and she needed to get back to work.

**8:52 AM, Northern Sweden**

Shephard drove hard, despite the fact he was completely lost as to where he was going. His first objective was to find somewhere to stop and possibly stay for a while, before trying to find Gordon Freeman.

Having so far neglected looking at the information he'd been given, Shephard wasn't sure what it actually contained. But he was pretty sure he'd have to go looking for Mr. Freeman himself.

_Pretty crappy briefing, _Shephard thought. _Honestly, it's not like I'm anywhere familiar. Or even know where my target _is.

Right now, he was driving through some pretty snowy terrain. There appeared to be something on the horizon that resembled a small town or something, he wasn't sure. But it looked like it could definitely be used as she—

Gunfire from behind him interrupted his thoughts. Shephard snapped his head around, spotting two snowmobiles in the distance. There were four soldiers in total, two riding shotgun on the backs.

Grunting angrily, Shephard reached for his .357. After slipping the gun from its holster and bringing it up at the enemy, he checked the hammer and fired.

Miss.

More gunfire from the enemy, who seemed to be much better equipped than Shephard. He was lucky they hadn't brought a sniper rifle or rocket launcher, otherwise he'd be screwed.

Glancing forwards quickly, Shephard turned around again and fired a second time. Another miss.

Ignoring the bit of sense in his brain telling him to panic, Shephard went with his intuition, holstered the weapon and pulled his M4 from his back. Single-handedly loading the grenade launcher, aiming it loosely and firing proved to work, as a large mist of sleet and fire erupted from the front of one of the snowmobiles, parts of it flying off.

But now, as Shephard unfortunately noticed, his gun was on the ground. Seeing as his shoulder had recently been shot and he was firing a grenade with one hand, the recoil had thrown the gun out of his gloved hand with ease.

Now his rifle was lying in the snow.

Shephard groaned in irritation, swinging the snowmobile around with a loud roar from the engine. The soldiers watched him do this in confusion, before the driver swerved to the right when Shephard raised his revolver and fired.

The magnum round crashed through the driver's respirator, blood and snow white plastic splattering all over the side of the soldier's face. The snowmobile — now lacking a driver — flipped on its side and neatly lay in the snow.

Shephard ran over to his rifle, his feet crunching loudly in the snow. It was about twenty metres from his snowmobile so he didn't have to—

A burst of gunfire collided with Shephard's side and he fell on his front, his PCV beeping at him. Instantly he felt morphine sapping pain's hold on his waist, but he could feel at least one bullet inside him. He was pretty sure two of them had merely scraped him, but he wasn't sure. He rolled onto his back, fumbling with his .357 as he watched the soldier running over to him holding a Heckler and Koch MP7.

A single loud gunshot rang out.

Shephard stood slowly, walking over to his M4 and strapping it over his back. Then he paused, gazing at the dead body of the soldier.

_Who are these bastards?_

Cautiously, Shephard walked over to the corpse, rolling it on its back. With about as much care as one takes when squashing a spider, he pulled off the mask and withheld the sight before him.

Any other person might feel nauseous or even puke at such a sight, but Shephard had seen some messed up shit before, most of it at Black Mesa itself — blood splattering dimly lit corridors, decapitated corpses, living dead with their chests ripped open and filled with teeth, even hideously mutated human beings and deformed aliens.

What he saw was an almost skeletally thin face, bleached pale from some ridiculously long time without sun. The eyes were white and lifeless, but Shephard couldn't tell if that was because it was dead or if they'd been like that before. There was a metal disc embedded in the soldier's neck that probably did something Shephard couldn't even guess.

Standing up again, Shephard calmly walked over to his snowmobile and drove off, leaving the bloodied up body to lie in the snow.

—

It looked like it had once been a town or something. Now it was just a collection of buildings in dire need of repair.

Shephard was standing outside a large supermarket style building. At least, that was what the sign on the front had said. The only words in English were ICA Supermarket, and the rest were in Swedish.

"Oppet alla dagar..." Shephard muttered to himself, looking at the sign. Those words were also followed by '9-21'. Perhaps it was opening hours?

Ignoring this, Shephard looked inside. The building was closed up, of course, but he could see through the glass doors. Rotten food, blue shopping baskets strewn all over the lino floor and tipped over red signs.

Didn't look nice. Since the entire town was deserted and the food was rotten, that meant those masked guys had been here a while. How long exactly? Ever since 2001? Had Black Mesa somehow called an alien race over to Earth?

Shaking his head, Shephard leaned against the glass doors and pulled out the sheet of paper he'd been given. Opening it, he was shocked to find text appear in front of his eyes.

_I see you have opened this document. A fine little piece of technology this is, a single sheet of paper with infinite capacity. I will update you on Gordon Freeman's position whenever he moves._

Shephard watched as a large chunk of information appeared.

_Right now, Gordon Freeman is at an overrun Combine outpost about fifty kilometres from where you are. However, in a few hours he will be leaving for the Inferno Abyss correctional institute. The snowmobile you stole should have it in its integrated navigational system._

Looking up from the paper, Shephard quickly headed over to his snowmobile. Sure enough, he found the mentioned prison on the GPS-like device handlebars. He cocked an eyebrow, looking back a the sheet in his hands.

_For now, I would advise finding somewhere to go to get out of the cold. However, where you are right now might not be the best place to be._

Shephard frowned at the paper, before looking up.

And his jaw dropped.

There was a horde of zombies stumbling towards him, feet dragging in the snow.

* * *

Sorry about the short chapter, but I promise it was simply preparing for the zombie attack Shephard will be facing. Next chapter, according to what I've planned out, Gordon and Alyx will be making their way to Inferno Abyss.


	13. Twelve: Emancipation

**-=Chapter Twelve: Emancipation=-**

**11:28 AM, Overthrown Combine Outpost**

Gordon and Alyx had decided to use the vehicle that the Combine soldiers who shot Gordon's leg had ridden in on. After studying it, Gordon had discovered it was a type of Combine two-seater snowmobile with a single headlight. It was a light grey, with a long white padded seat. On the handlebars there was a sort of onboard computer that he guessed acted like the Combine's version of a GPS, though he was pretty sure it used something other than the human satellites up in the sky.

After checking it out, Gordon and Alyx had decided to take it.

Barney and the rebels had stayed behind to defend the outpost, Gordon and Barney both having headsets to talk to each other.

At the moment, Gordon was driving the snowmobile through the snowy wasteland, over the flat surface of frozen aridity.

Alyx was holding onto him — a fact he had no objections to and she knew it — looking over his shoulder at the small base on the horizon.

Gordon's glasses were getting wet, sleet having been thrown up from the vehicle as it churned up the ground. It was surprisingly quiet for something that the speedometer said was going at... Gordon frowned at the Combine digits on the device. Great. The only thing not in English was the numbers.

_Thank you so very much for that completely pointless decision._

Gordon shook his head, outing away his petty complaints. He decided to think about everything that was going on.

The Gman's conversation with him.

_The people define you._

Pulling Alyx out of the way, taking a bullet in the chest...

_Self-preservation is not my only consideration._

Pumping the shotgun, blasting the soldier away.

_The defence of others is intertwined with it._

_But not just Alyx._

The crossbow bolt, slamming into the soldier's head, liquid spraying from the hole.

_But everyone. The human race, looking to me to be a leader._

The zombie's head exploded, Gordon cocking the shotgun and swinging around to blow away the other one, standing behind the Vortigaunt.

_The Vortigaunts too._

The oesophagus and windpipe left to rot in the grass, blood splattering the wall.

_But is that the only reason?_

A flatline, whining loudly in the confined space.

_Am I only trying to defend? Or am I trying to _attack?

A fist-sized hole in the chest and a single bullet going straight through it, into the chest of the metrocop standing behind.

_Are my actions out of love for the human race? Or my hate of the Combine?_

—

The base was located on a hill.

It was surrounded by a twenty metre high cliff face from all sides except the south west and there was a line of defences leading up to it including guard towers and Combine pillboxes. These defences formed a long trail leading to the base itself, all of them on a small gradual slope about five metres above the ground at its highest.

And from the small, cold, single windowed concrete shed they were hiding in, Gordon and Alyx could see it all.

"This isn't going to be as easy as I thought..." Gordon muttered, sitting on an old crate.

"They definitely weren't on the photo Dr. Kleiner found." Alyx agreed, looking around for some shells. At the moment, she had her compact machine pistol in an old leather holster on her belt and a shotgun in one hand. The other was skimming through crates of ammo in various states of disrepair, some of which had giant splintered holes in the sides.

Gordon tried twirling his MP7 around his finger — whose safety he had made sure was on — by wiggling the finger in the trigger guard. Alyx turned her head around, having just found some more shells, when the gun clattered noisily to the ground and Gordon fumbled as he tried to grab it.

Alyx covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter. Unfortunately for Gordon, she couldn't.

Hiding his embarrassment pretty well, Gordon swiftly scooped up his gun and acted like nothing had happened. "Find anything?" he asked nonchalantly.

Alyx smiled. "Some shells. Need any mags?"

"No, should be fine."

"Well then," Alyx headed for the door. "Shall we?"

Gordon chuckled, standing up. "We shall."

—

Two guards— Combine soldiers 764273 and 591198 — looked out across the bright snowy landscape, the light dimmed a little by the tint of the glass they stood behind.

They were inside a small metal pillbox. At least, that was what it was like. Two turrets pointed toward the horizon to shoot anyone who came too close. The long strip of darkened glass depicted a landscape of white and grey, clusters of large rocks and the occasional plant.

One of the soldiers fidgeted subtly, his clothes rustling gently.

Security had tightened ever since the unit at Kraken Base reported a Resistance attack team led by Anticitizen One, Enforcement Infiltrator and, assumedly, Vance Subprime had attacked them. That was last night.

"Do you think they know we have Traitor Prime here?" one soldier asked his comrade, breaking the Arctic silence.

"If they did we would probably already be under attack." The other replied coolly.

The first chuckled. "True."

They kept watching.

—

Ducking behind a large rock, Gordon and Alyx waited for the sound of footsteps. After a few seconds, Gordon silently stuck his gun around the right side of the boulder, briefly lined up the sights and fired a burst at him. He fell, clutching his chest and falling with a dull crunch in the snow.

A flatline whined out.

"Shit!" Gordon swore suddenly, standing up and running past the body toward another group of boulders.

Alyx fired her shotgun at another soldier as she slid to the snowy ground behind some other rocks. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

Gordon dived behind the rocks as two more soldiers opened fire with their submachine guns high above them, nestled in the first of the guard towers. "The radios!" he hissed, pressing himself against the rocks. "Now everyone knows we're here!"

Bullets smacked into the boulders, sending chips of rock everywhere as they bounced off at obscure angles.

Gordon gritted his teeth, checking his ammo. "This is going great, isn't it?" he grumbled, slotting the magazine back into the well.

—

The two soldiers in the pillbox tensed suddenly at the sound of the loud whine in their radios. "What the hell?" one demanded, snapping his head around to look out the tinted window.

"Resistance members." The second muttered unnecessarily, turning for the large metal door behind the two. "You look out for them, I'll hold the door."

The first gave a sharp nod, taking the pulse turret pointing out the window as his comrade exited.

_This isn't going to end well... _he thought to himself, common sense overpowering his patriotism and everything he'd been taught by those higher-up in the hierarchy of the Overwatch.

—

Silence.

"What do we do?" Alyx whispered to Gordon, clutching her shotgun tightly.

They were still behind the large boulders, snow falling lightly on their heads. They couldn't hear anyone moving but Gordon knew there was at least one guy up in the guard tower not fifteen metres away.

Out of curiosity, Gordon looked to the heavens and turned his head on a sharp angle to try and see the guard tower. Apparently someone up there saw him as another burst of fire forced him to duck down instinctively.

Without a word, he quietly turned around and perched his MP7 on the top of the rock.

Gunfire from the soldier above him.

A loud _whump sounded _as one of Gordon's grenades fired and exploded, flames and debris raining down on the snow. The coast now clear, Gordon wasted no time in standing up...

...and realising one of the possibly multiple soldiers was still alive up there, his arm blown off and pissed as hell.

Gordon ducked back down behind the rocks, firing a long burst at the soldier in the guard tower as the metal foundations groaned threateningly. The soldier ducked down behind metal plating to reload, allowing Gordon to scramble to his feet as the tower suddenly howled a loud metallic _craaaaaack _and the upper supports bent and snapped. The whole top of the guard tower tipped off and fell to the ground, landing with a crunch as it was crushed immediately.

Alyx stood up, cocking her shotgun. She looked over at the remains of the tower and then at Gordon, eyes wide in awe of his work. "Nicely done," she winked.

Gordon gave a brief nod and a smile before heading for the first pillbox.

—

Soldier 764273 thoughts were interrupted when his companion charged back inside. "Shit!" he was yelling as he ran back through the door. "It's Anticitizen and Subprime!"

Looking over at his comrade, Soldier 764273 watched 591198 diving for cover supplied by a group of metal crates. "Where are they?" he demanded, looking anxiously at the door as he slammed it shut.

"Right freaking outside!" 591198 yelled from behind the stack of boxes.

764273 gave a final nervous glance at the door before running over to the other end of the pillbox and throwing himself behind cover.

—

With a sharp crackle, the security panel exploded in sparks as Alyx's EMP tool fired a blast of high voltage electricity into it. The door beeped negatively, and Gordon — not wanting to sit around and wait — slammed his shoulder into the metal door.

Alyx was surprised to see he'd left a dent, especially because his shoulders were two of the few places without a layer of metal plating on them. Again, Gordon thrust his shoulder into the door, this time snapping the manual locking system where the handle had once been. The door swung open roughly, crashing into the wall as Gordon ran inside and pointed his smallarm around.

"Run!" someone yelled from behind a stack of crates.

Two soldiers stood up, firing fully automatically at Gordon as he snapped his head around to look over at them. He got a few shots off before he hit the ground, but by then the soldiers were gone and he had taken two shots.

He grunted, getting onto his feet as Alyx came through. "What was _that _all about?"

"No idea," Gordon muttered, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've never heard soldiers yelling retreat before."

"Me neither." Alyx admitted, "they've always made the impression that they're stupidly patriotic."

"What, verging on suicidal?" Gordon asked, smiling tightly. "Nah, I just reckon they're overconfident."

"Maybe they're both," Alyx shrugged, looking at the console sitting under the mounted pulse turret and the long glass pane thereof. "There's nothing I can find from here," she explained, looking up from the console. "Nothing interesting."

Gordon gave a brief nod, looking out at the snowy landscape. "Hmm," he droned, looking at the turret. "Lot of good this thing did the Combine, hey?"

Alyx smiled. "Their defences are pretty lacking, I have to admit."

"Well," Gordon shrugged, heading for the other door. It was opposite another turret-and-glass-pane combination on the other side of the emplacement. "No time to waste."

—

"_764273 and 591198, report."_

"Sir, Anticitizen One and Vance Subprime are attacking the base!" Soldier 591198 explained frantically, running for the second pillbox defence.

"_Where are they?"_

"Inside the first gun emplacement, sir!"

"_Right." _The officer paused, as if contemplating what to do._ "I will have a unit sent to the second gun emplacement immediately." _He confirmed eventually, _"And I don't need to remind anyone of what those two insurrectionists accomplished last time they attacked a correctional facility like this."_

That last bit was broadcast publically, so anyone on the secure Combine channel could hear it. Nobody said anything, but their silence was sign enough that they were thinking about his words.

_Nova Prospekt._

Everyone knew that a few weeks previously Dr. Gordon Freeman had single-handedly broken into the facility — albeit in dire disrepair and mainly dependent on automated defences — and managed to both escape with Alyx Vance and destroy the entire installation at the same time. Such a major blow to the Combine was interpreted by the legions of human civilians as the signal to enter full-scale war with the Combine.

Some serious shit went down.

And it still was going down.

And the multitude of vengeful humans was slowly crushing the Combine under their determined feet.

"_These bastards are not going to get Traitor Prime." _The officer insisted suddenly, his tone now with a fierce edge to it. _"I will give the order to have her brought to the gates of Inferno Abyss and, should these rebels get far enough, have her executed before their very eyes."_

764273 glanced over at 591198 apprehensively, all expression veiled by his snow-camo helmet. "Ideas?"

"Yeah," 591198 replied as he hoisted his gun and looked at the large and remarkably dark looking facility in the distance, before taking off toward it with a shouted "stay alive!" back to his comrade.

764273 paused momentarily, shortly pondering whether to stay and fight two of the most influential and dangerous humans on the face of this irritatingly defiant planet or hole himself up with a friend inside a heavily defended base where ammo, health and backup was readily available.

He chose the latter.

—

Gordon snuck around the back of the pillbox, holding his submachine gun tightly as he pressed himself against the door in the side of the metal box of a building and noting that for once the pillbox was in a somewhat strategic place. Well, apart from the fact that someone could sneak right around the back of it, the gun could easily mow down anyone who went anyone in _front_ of it.

So that was why he and Alyx were going around the back.

Alyx followed closely behind, reloading her shotgun. Gordon noticed her doing this and he himself decided to follow suit, thumbing the release button of his magazine and quickly slotting another one into the pistol grip magazine well. He smacked the magazine twice to make sure it was in place and wrenched back the loading handle on his compact gun. "You good to go?" He asked Alyx as she pumped her shotgun.

"Hell yeah," she replied, looking up at him with an enthused nod.

Gordon charged the door.

—

_Thump._

The twenty soldiers — all having recently been called in to defend the pillbox — flinched reflexively as the metal door clanged on its hinges, shifting nervously behind the measly defences they'd arranged.

"Keep it together..." someone muttered as the soldiers manning the two turrets on the windows hurried over to cover having realised their chances of survival were better from behind the stack of metal plates and boxes.

_Thump._

The door shook, the banging echoing in the small pillbox. Soldiers tensed, eyes gazing down their sights, guns aimed at the do—

_Craaaack!_

The door swung open and the soldiers opened fire on the man in the door... way.

No one was there, aside from the faint whistling of the wind and the nigh-inaudible swinging of the door.

A few soldiers stood up cautiously, their guns braced against their shoulders.

Nobody moved.

Someone's clothes rustled softly as they moved their leg.

The front of an MP7 greeted them from the doorway.

And then a grenade fired, whumping loudly as it blasted from the underslung grenade launcher of the submachine gun.

"_Shit!"_

_Boom_.

They never had a chance.

—

A faint smokescreen was blown away as Gordon Freeman and Alyx Vance ran through it, guns pointed down at the splinted bloody mess of soldiers on the ground. Body parts were everywhere, half of a booted leg was impaled in the cracked glass pane to the right. Blood had splattered all on the walls, the floor and the glass, along with the stench of smoke and the black carbon mark left from the explosion.

Alyx coughed.

Gordon blinked, turning around. "They're dead." He affirmed calmly, walking out the open door.

—

Not long after, the two were lying on their stomachs in the snow.

Gordon had his crossbow out and was scanning the front of the base with the scope. Alyx watched in genuine interest. She'd already seen how deadly the anachronistic weapon was against the Overwatch soldiers and frankly she hadn't expected anything less. What really sparked her interest was the fact some world class intellect had opted to attach a telescopic scope to it.

Of course, she herself couldn't see squat — they were about five hundred metres away, mind — so she was thankful at least someone had had the brains to bring a long range weapon with a scope. She silently scolded herself for leaving her AWM rifle back at the Combine outpost. Why wouldn't she bring a sniper rifle on an undertaking involving the emancipation of a high-ranking individual?

"Oh, shit." Gordon swore suddenly, lowering his crossbow.

"What is it?" Alyx demanded, her tone scarcely hiding her concern.

Gordon fidgeted in his position lying on the ground, rubbing his forehead. "It's Dr. Mossman." He explained, adjusting his glasses. "She's out the front surrounded by soldiers."

"Crap," Alyx cursed, looking away in frustration. She exhaled loudly, looking up at Gordon. "They're probably going to kill her as soon as we get near her." She paused. "What do we do?" she asked finally.

Gordon looked into her pleading eyes and thought. If they tried anything, she was gone. Nothing he could think of would work. Shoot someone long range, she gets dropped straight away. Fire a grenade and she'd certainly die from either the blast or any survivors behind her with guns.

"We surrender." He decided, voice so quiet it sounded almost monotonic.

Alyx was shocked. _Surrender? No, surely not. Not _Gordon Freeman.

_Gordon Freeman wouldn't surrender... would he?_

After a brief pause, she eyed him curiously, a small smile forming on her lips. "Really?"

Gordon chuckled, something that filled Alyx with warm reassurance as he stood up. "_Maybe_ really."

—

The first thing the Combine soldiers saw of Gordon and Alyx was them walking toward them with their hands in the air. The soldiers immediately took up position and eight various firearm barrels were poked right into Judith Mossman's bony cheeks, who was standing right in the middle of the group.

As a traitor and important member of the Resistance, she'd been given minimal food if only to encourage giving information to the Combine.

Something she had done once, concerning the Borealis and its possible contents.

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Gordon and Alyx heading toward the group of soldiers. The group was standing at the foot of the stairs leading up into the courtyard of Inferno Abyss. The courtyard itself was about twenty metres above the ground and there was a thick metal inner wall on either side of the stairs that started about five metres up and surrounded the entire base. Lightly falling snow had covered the steps, recently made footprints still clear all the way down the stairs.

By the time Gordon and Alyx had reached the soldiers, they clearly had their hands in the air and the Combine could clearly see what they were intending.

Then they stopped about five metres from the group of soldiers.

Nobody moved, the Arctic wind whistling around the two parties, rustling thick clothing and blowing loose hair.

"Remove your weapons." One of the soldiers ordered abruptly.

The two rebels complied, Alyx unslinging her shotgun and Gordon placing his MP7, his crowbar and his crossbow on the ground.

They stepped back from their weapons. Alyx scratched her head, tilting her head slightly. Gordon sneezed into his gloved hands, covering his face and wiping his nose on the side of his pointer finger.

"Good." The soldier nodded at them, his arrogant tone made confidently obvious. "Now watch."

Suddenly, Gordon yelped loudly and shook his left hand vigorously, causing the soldiers to look up at him in confusion. For some strange reason, he seemed to be waving it in the soldier's direction...

The glove flew off his hand and the grenade came out, the pin now having been removed. When he had covered his mouth to sneeze, Gordon had so very secretly pulled the pin out of the grenade he'd shoved into his glove with his teeth, having pushed the pin through the material of his glove earlier.

The soldiers had enough time to spot the grenade before it exploded.

Alyx had scooped her shotgun up in an instant and was firing at the remaining soldiers as they tried to shoot Dr. Mossman, who was running up the stairs. She had braced herself, having spotted Alyx doing something very subtly with her other hand as she had scratched her head and tilted it down toward her other hand.

Sign language.

However, now she had some minor scorch marks on her clothes and she was wheezing, her run now a mere stumble up the stairs.

A soldier lying on the stairs fumbled with his pistol a second before Gordon smacked him in the head with the back-end of his crowbar.

With a sigh of relief, Alyx looked up at Dr. Mossman. She was about seven or eight metres up the stairs and had collapsed on her back. "Dr. Mossman!" Alyx exclaimed, running up to her. Gordon followed, grabbing his submachine gun and crossbow before he did.

When she saw her coming, Judith looked up at her with a weak smile. "My goodness... however did you find me?"

"It's a long story," Gordon admitted as he arrived, putting his bloody crowbar away.

Dr. Mossman looked back down the stairs. "Hold on," she whispered, lying spreadeagled on her back. "I need to catch my breath."

For a few moments the group just sat on the stairs, taking whatever small refuge there was in the brief rest they were having.

Dr. Mossman sighed eventually. "OK," she sat up. "OK, so you came here to save me?"

"Well, not entirely," Gordon explained. "We were actually sent here to find the Borealis."

"Ah, so you received my transmission." Dr. Mossman smiled. "Good. I assume you have been sent with the proper materials to destroy it then?"

Silence.

Dr. Mossman frowned at the two. "Wait a second... you weren't sent to destroy it?"

"I thought you were supposed to find it?" Alyx inquired.

"I was. I clearly stated in my transmission that the contents had the possibility to compromise our work. What else would I want to do with it other than destroy it?"

"But Dr. Magnusson said that the ship has portal technology—"

Alyx was interrupted by a loud snort from Dr. Mossman. "Dr. _Magnusson? _Ha, that old fool thinks too highly of himself. Of course there isn't portal technology on the Borealis, how on earth would the Combine use that?"

"To get back to their homeworld, maybe?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh... you don't know, do you?" Alyx smiled, the serious tone of the argument vanishing like the light snowflakes that fell on the three. "We closed the super-portal!"

Dr. Mossman's eyes widened. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest.  
"When Eli told me a super portal had appeared I was so worried... I forgot all about it while in that hellhole." She nodded up the stairs.

Alyx had gone quiet and wasn't saying anything, so Gordon took the opportunity. "So... hang on, what is in the Borealis then?" Gordon asked, suddenly remembering Dr. Mossman didn't know about Eli's death and he decided she didn't need to just now.

"We don't know the specifics, but it seems to be some sort of sentient artificial intelligence in control of the entire ship mainframe." She explained, either oblivious to Alyx's silence or unaware anything was out of place.

"And this is dangerous to us... how?" Gordon continued, standing up to stretch and — partially — avert Dr. Mossman's gaze from Alyx.

Judith stood up as well, along with Alyx. "Well, quite sim—"

_Tpp-tpp-toh!_

A burst of gunfire echoed throughout the complex as three bullets whistled down the stairs straight at Gordon's head.

And Dr. Mossman's was in the way.

* * *

Cliffhanger. That's all there is to it.

And by the way, if you haven't been taking notice of the time announced at the beginning of each chapter, make sure as hell you do because the plot is not a linear A to B to C all from one person's POV in one single time. Believe me, things won't make any sense unless you know what the time is.

On another note, I actually wrote this and then went back over and made it GOOD. Actually, I think it's my favourite chapter simply because I did more work revising than I did writing. Tell me if you think it was any better than previous installments because I did some self-beta reading.

As for a small update to all you people who'd prefer to see this on the Youtube silver screen, Deremix has sent me a short but very good clip for the funeral in the prologue. We've been discussing things about it and everything's going smoothly. However he is going to finish the sequel to his GTA IV hospital shootout first. I'd recommend checking these out because they're really good. He's told me his previous Half Life 2 machinima isn't top-notch, but his GTA IV stuff is amazing.

Look up Deremixproductions on Google or Youtube... and I'll keep y'all posted as things progress.


	14. Thirteen: Survivalist

**-=Chapter Thirteen: Survivalist=-**

**9:09 AM, Small town in Northern Sweden**

"Shit," Shephard muttered under his breath, hoisting his M4 as he watched the zombies stumbling toward him.

They were everywhere, like something out of a horror movie. All of them closing in on him to rip him to shreds and possibly — despite the fact he _really_ didn't like the idea — eat his flesh.

Then again, he had no idea how these things worked. They were being controlled by the same hellish bastard creatures as the Black Mesa specimen he'd encountered only a day ago but he hadn't stayed around long enough to analyse them closely.

A day ago to him, at least.

Brushing away his thoughts and focusing on the life-threatening situation before him, Shephard slowly made to move back to his snowmobile, the zombies moaning demonically at him. Cautiously pointing his hoisted M4 at the congregation, he was about to sit down on the vehicle as the horde closed in when a loud whirring sound came from above. Shephard snapped his head up to look for the source of the noise — and found it pretty quickly.

There was a large, glossy black helicopter hovering almost directly above him with a nasty looking turret on the side.

Shephard didn't give it any time to confirm its hostile intentions because he'd already ran back up the supermarket stairs, crashed through the glass doors and scrambled to his feet by the time the helicopter had opened fire on the zombies and — after a short moment of realisation from the gunner — the roof of the supermarket.

Even with his gasmask he could faintly smell rotten food, and it was bad. As in _really_ bad. In fact, Shephard wasn't convinced anyone with an unprotected sense of smell would be able to survive the repulsive smell.

And now he was holed up in the supermarket. In retrospect, maybe this wasn't the best idea. Then again, what other options had he had?

He looked around the supermarket, at the grimy red signs lying on the floor, the toppled shelves and the produce beyond salvaging. Despite the fact it looked like a complete dump, it also supplied an incredible amount of cover should things come to that.

Shephard made his way through the centre aisle, the helicopter above him reminding him it was there with a constant hail of pounding fire. To be honest, it was doing pretty well at scaring the living shit out of him because he was pretty sure the roof wasn't indestructible.

If the roof had been glass, well... he probably wouldn't have even tried to take refuge inside the supermarket.

After stepping over mounds of all kinds of neglected materials from toppled shelves to rusting appliances, he spotted a staircase in the far right corner of the building that lead up to the roof.

_Great. Roof access._

That was just dandy. Now any soldiers who were onboard that chopper could fast-rope their way down to bust their way in and smoke his ass.

Glass shattered from behind him.

Shephard snapped around, his gun braced against his shoulder. The zombies were swinging limp punches at the glass doors, small shards embedding in their bloodied hands. One of the foremost creatures fell inside, its stomach — or the general abdominal area, Shephard couldn't tell if it even had a stomach anymore — being partially impaled by sharp glass as it crawled on the dirty linoleum floor.

Hoarse moans resounded in the supermarket, the living dead relentlessly shoving themselves into the building no matter what lacerations the crudely-removed glass would give them as they went.

The only thing Shephard could offer these misfortunate bastards was a tight smile as he lined up his sights.

A cold chuckle escaped his pursed lips.

And he opened fire.

Bullets flew, slamming into the creatures, sending small droplets of blood across the floor and the remains of the automatic doors. What made up the most part of the bodily fluids was a sickly fluorescent yellow pus-like gunk that sprayed from the wounded alien parasites on their heads.

The beasts roared in pain as their bodies were riddled with bullets, some screaming in horrifically distorted human voices begging for God's mercy on them.

Orange tracer rounds fired and Shephard flicked the magazine release of his rifle with professional speed, slipped a fresh mag from his webbing into the well, smacked the magazine firmly with his palm and wrenched back the loading handle on the gun's side.

After this extremely quick movement, Shephard suddenly realised everything was silent. Even the helicopter's turret had ceased its fire. Liquid had flooded the floor and was splattered over the motley group of bloodied corpses.

Some of the heads were uncovered, revealing skinless, eyeless blood stained skulls.

Obviously these head-raping aliens were inferior to the masked ones in more than ways than Shephard had first deduced.

Something moved suddenly out of the corner of his eye, and Shephard only had enough time to loosely swing his M4 around as one of the aliens made to jump onto his head. Through some sort of fluke interception Shephard's grenade launcher smacked the creature in the side, sending it flying limply into a pile of felled groceries.

Shephard almost didn't realise the alien was dead before he opened fire on where it had been. Fortunately for him and his limited ammunition, he did spot it an instant before he fired three useless rounds into the cash register about seven metres away to his left.

Lowering his gun calmly, Shephard looked over his shoulder at the back of th—

_Bang!_

A loud thumping noise came from the far right corner of the building and Shephard's eyes snapped around to look. Then he spotted the roof access door.

_Ah. That'd be why the gunfire stopped._

His first intentions were to escape while the soldiers were trying to break in. Of course, he only took a few rapid steps before he actually looked back at the front of the building.

More zombies were trying to shove their way inside, over their fallen comrades or whatever the other zombies were to them.

Shephard snarled in irritation, raising his M4 again. Suddenly, there was another loud _bang _and the sound of wood loudly colliding with plaster. Not needing to see the soldiers running down the stairs to know they were there, he decided that it would be better to take cover.

Besides, the soldiers were probably a lot weaker than the mindless zombie horde, a fact that no amount of armour or Kevlar vests could change.

As Shephard was in one of the middle aisles — a nearby sign on the floor said it was number four — he headed back toward the front of the shop, making sure to tread carefully and move as subtly as possible so as to not make his clothes rustle. The zombies were still trying to get inside so he didn't worry about them, but they gave him some audible cover because they wouldn't shut the hell up.

After sneaking over to the furthest aisle — which had fallen into the wall and was now balancing at an almost forty five degree angle — Shephard crouched down behind the aisle and slowly made his way through rotten vegetables lying on the floor. He'd gotten used to the smell when it wasn't so potent, but now he was almost crawling through the old food it all came back in an attenuated but nevertheless awful wave of nasal torture.

He could hear booted footfalls coming from the other side of the supermarket, the clinking of metal objects and rustling of clothing as the soldiers moved around, most likely looking for him. Incoherent garbled speech issued from their radios, but Shephard couldn't understand any of it. He prayed they didn't have infra-red or heartbeat sensors, otherwise he'd be screwed.

Shephard was now crawling on his stomach, and almost at the far end of the aisle. He tried only breathing through his mouth, but he realised suddenly he lost focus when he concentrated on doing so.

Silently sitting up and pressing his back against the wall, Shephard slowly unslung his M4 from his back and checked it was loaded. The far end of the supermarket was cloaked in shadows as the lights didn't work and the supermarket itself was about thirty metres from first aisle to last, so Shephard couldn't see everything clearly.

Grunting quietly, he pulled the chamber out from his M203 grenade launcher and patted his webbing for a grenade. There were two left, so he paused shortly before pulling the grenade out and loading it into the chamber.

Shephard stood up cautiously, taking a deep breath of twenty year old air and terribly rotten food through gasmask filters before breaking into a run.

The soldiers heard him almost immediately, spotting him running toward them from about twenty five metres away. Seeing as he was one person versus about six of them, the group clearly demonstrated their overconfidence by not even taking cover as they opened fire on him.

Maybe they didn't see he wasn't holding the pistol grip of his M4. Maybe they thought he was so scared of them he wasn't firing back. Maybe they didn't think he even had grenade launcher on his rifle.

All Shephard knew was that when he fired the grenade from twenty metres away, the soldiers didn't even have time to widen their masked eyes in surprise.

The grenade exploded, coupled with the screams of the soldiers as their bodies exploded and loud radio flatlines screeched out.

Shephard ran up the stairs a few seconds later, not even bothering to look at the ghastly sight he'd just made. A short burst of gunfire from somewhere behind him almost made him pause, but he decided against turning around and possibly getting shot by people on the roof guarding the door.

A possibility he had prepared himself for and, after seeing the helicopter and the soldiers waiting below it, was thankful for.

By the time anyone on the roof could actually see his feet, chances were they had already taken at least one bullet to a major part of their body. Shephard knew these guys wanted him dead and he wasn't about to give them an opening to do so.

There was very little cover on the roof, apart from a metal airduct leading down into the ceiling below, which two slightly smarter soldiers opted to throw themselves behind as their comrades were shot down by the ostensibly pissed off soldier.

Then the hunter chopper opened fire and he remembered he was a mere human.

Shephard didn't know what the ammunition was but his PCV sure hated it. He kept his head down and ran toward the airduct as glowing blue bolts of energy rained down on him from above. As he ran he suddenly noticed that the helicopter still had ropes hanging from it, most probably from the soldiers who had been waiting for him.

Then Shephard wondered if he could get out of all this by doing something insane.

Quickly reminding himself he only had one rifle grenade left, he instead chose to shoot at the soldiers behind the airduct with ordinary bullets as he headed for one of the ropes. One of them fell, a couple of bullets going straight through the two thin metal layers between him and Shephard.

The second soldier then stood up and opened fire on Shephard as he tried to make a run for it. A single slug smacked into Shephard's ribcage, his PCV beeping at him. Instantly Shephard had returned fire and the soldier had fallen to the ground as a splatter of blood spread out around him.

As he hurriedly reloaded his grenade launcher, Shephard looked to the heavens at the helicopter. It was still hovering right above him.

_Dumbasses._

Shephard aimed the rifle directly up at the helicopter's underside, which was left conveniently open for the soldiers to come back up.

And Shephard.

Pulling the secondary trigger on the gun, a grenade blasted from the underslung barrel and flew straight up into the air before exploding impressively as it hit the roof of the chopper.

Loud screams echoed from above and a single charred body fell from the sky as Shephard grabbed onto the closest rope, slung his rifle over his back and started climbing.

Suddenly, the rope swung backwards and Shephard almost lost his grip. He snapped his head up to see what had happened and realised the helicopter had started flying back toward the ship in the ice.

Shephard grunted, determined to make sure they never made it back. He kept climbing.

Something cracked the air beside Shephard as he climbed. He didn't stop, only looked up at the helicopter. Among the scorch marks and blood, he couldn't clearly make anything out except the faint outline of someone.

With a handgun.

Another bullet flew past Shephard. This was getting bad. The higher he climbed the closer he got to his assailant.

Shephard quickly wrapped his legs around the rope and gingerly reached for his M4, his hands shaking from both holding onto the swaying rope one handed and the fact someone was shooting at him from above.

He carefully unslung his rifle as a third bullet flew past him, somewhat further away thanks to the rope's unpredictable movement. With his right hand Shephard flicked to semi-auto, aimed loosely up at the soldier he could barely see and fired.

The recoil was probably very little compared to what Shephard was used to as a soldier, but because the wind was rushing against his body and he was holding onto the rope with one hand it felt like he'd fired a heavy machinegun full auto like that Rambo character always did.

Shephard readjusted his grip on the rope before firing a second time, but this time he heard a loud flatline whining from the helicopter, even above the wind.

Shephard slowly put his M4 away and kept climbing. Faster this time.

_Honestly, _he thought to himself. _Rambo is such an unrealistic movie series. I mean, who in their right mind runs out of cover to fire at people actually taking cover? _

He climbedsome more.

_Also, why the hell is he using an M60 with one hand? Even with two hands the recoil of a machine gun of that calibre would knock him over with a single burst._

Shephard climbed into the helicopter quietly, grabbing the dead soldier's pistol and silently sneaking over to the cockpit, where upon he wrapped his left arm around the pilot's neck and fired a single shot into his ear. The body instantly stopped fighting and fell limp. Shephard shoved the body out of the seat and sat himself down.

_Actually, didn't Rambo fire a disposable rocket launcher from inside a helicopter in the second movie or something? _That _is probably the epitome of unrealistic. The backblast from the ignited gases escaping from the back of the rocket launcher would've caused the entire helicopter to crumple and probably toast Rambo himself._

It was pretty ironic, when Shephard thought about it. He himself had done insane things like Rambo at Black Mesa and, now that he actually considered it, only a few minutes ago climbing into this here helicopter and down in the supermarket.

But he had powered armour.

And he wasn't an actor.

**11:47 AM, Inferno Abyss Correctional Facility**

The glowing arctic sky flashed across the Hunter Chopper's jet black hull and into a soldier's eyes. He raised his Arctic camouflaged arm to his eyes as the chopper descended onto the helipad, covering his eyes from the light.

He lowered his arm and looked over at the other soldier waiting at the helipad a few metres away. He nodded.

Soldier 764273 gave a thumbs up before the two walked over to the sliding door in the side of the helicopter and opened it up.

Having concurred that the prison was the safest place to be while two armed Resistance members were trying to rescue someone already outside it, it was a cruel twist of fate that Adrian Shephard was waiting for them with a loaded automatic rifle.

Fortunately for them, Shephard had seen they were the only ones nearby and decided to only threaten them to shut the hell up and get their hands up. After all, he didn't have a silenced gun, as the two soldiers noticed.

"I have information that Dr. Gordon Freeman would be here," Shephard muttered, settling not to talk about the man he was working for. "Is he?"

He hoped that these people worked just like humans did when faced with a gun.

They did.

"Anticitizen One and Vance Subprime attacked the base at approximately 11:36 AM." One of the soldiers explained. "Why do you need to know?"

"Where are they now?" Shephard demanded, assuming Anticitizen One was Gordon Freeman. He didn't care who Vance Subprime was, so long as he didn't get in the way of his target.

"We haven't received an announcement concerning their termination and a large group of soldiers were killed recently, so we assume they've made it to the group guarding Traitor Prime."

_A traitor, huh?_

"Where is this group?"

"At the foot of the stairs leading to the courtyard."

"And where's the courtyard?"

"Just down there." One of the soldiers pointed down to the south west.

Shephard gave them a sharp nod. "Thanks."

Then he smacked them unconscious with the muzzle of his rifle.

—

One of the officers' chuckled as he listened to the two talking on the radio.

"_At the foot of the stairs leading to the courtyard."_

_Left their radios on, _he thought, shaking his head. _I'm pretty sure that's intentional._

"_Just down there."_

Suddenly, two loud thumps were heard across the radio, followed by two softer ones.

_He knocked them out._

The officer looked up at the two rebels running toward them with their hands up. He keyed his radio. "Get someone to come to the main stairs, look out for hostile unit. Last known location was the helipad north east of the courtyard."

Someone replied instantly. _"Already on it, sir. Heard our boys talking to him over the radio."_

"Good. Out."

—

_Two of them, _Shephard thought with a smile. _Should be easy to take out._

He was standing on the opposite side of the courtyard to the main stairs. Two guards were standing by the wall at the top of these stairs. Of course, they couldn't know about him because he hadn't killed anyone yet. Besides, they were probably waiting for Anticitizen One and that other guy.

Suddenly, there was an explosion from somewhere beyond the soldiers. They turned their heads in unison, before running down the stairs.

Shephard frowned. _What the hell was that all about?_

Slowly, he moved from his cover and headed across the snow covered courtyard, treading lightly so as to not make too much noise.

Gunfire from somewhere down the stairs. People screaming. Sounded like something unexpected had happened.

Shephard reached the wall surrounding the courtyard and looked down the stairs. It went down about ten metres, before stopping on a lower level and continuing the next ten or so to the ground. He couldn't see past the lower level, so he quietly snuck down the stairs, holding his gun tightly. He realised his heart was pounding.

_Gotta keep it together, _he thought shakily to himself.

He stopped on the lower level, taking a few deep breaths before looking down the stairs.

Blood.

Everywhere.

The snow had been soiled with crimson and blasted off limbs. Empty shells were all over the bottom few stairs and all over the ground.

And there were three people sitting only three metres away from him, one in an orange suit, one in a thick brown hoodie and one in a torn crème coloured sweater.

The first thing he thought was: Holy shit, they're going to see me.

The second thing he thought was: Huh, looks like Vance Subprime's a girl.

The one in the orange suit stood, looking down at the woman in the sweater. Without thinking, without pausing and without even taking careful aim, Shephard raised his gun — having flicked it to automatic on the helicopter — and fired a short burst at Dr. Freeman's head.

Then suddenly, the woman in the sweater stood...

...and her head exploded.

* * *

There we have it.

Just a quick note, I'm going away from Sunday to Thursday (school holidays!) and I won't be working on the story while away. So there's going to be a short hiatus of five days and after that I'll be back. I'm actually really looking forward to writing the Gordon vs Shephard fight scene which, as I'm sure original readers will be glad to know, is a hell of a lot long than the last one.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed and please give me your reviews.


	15. Fourteen: Engagement

**-=Chapter Fourteen: Engagement=-**

**11:53 AM, Inferno Abyss Courtyard Stairs **

_Blood... everywhere..._

_Empty casings... abandoned in the snow..._

_Judith Mossman's life ended in an instant._

Alyx screamed, shielding her eyes as Dr. Mossman's body fell to the ground beside her.

Gordon snapped his head up to look at the perpetrator. The man's face was clad in a brown, night vision gasmask, he was wearing urban grey military camouflage, olive green webbing and a black Powered Combat Vest.

_He's a Marine... _Gordon realised somewhere in the back of his head. Right now, he didn't care for little facts like that.

All he care about was this man had just shot someone he'd spent days trying to locate.

Someone with critical information about the Borealis.

Someone who had been Gordon's friend.

For some reason, the man didn't open fire on Gordon straight away. Gordon could hear him breathing heavily through the filters of his gasmask. "That..." he managed, his voice shaking with fury, "is for Black Mesa, you son o—"

Gordon didn't let him finish, because he had his MP7 up in a millisecond.

Shephard, despite the fact that he was practically running his actions on motivation for vengeance, spotted Gordon raising his gun almost immediately and the trained soldier in his brain took control. He began running back up the stairs, shooting his M4 wildly in Gordon's direction.

Gordon dropped to the ground, ignoring the body beside his face and the smell of blood now directly invading his senses. "When you gotta shoot, shoot," He grunted to himself, scrambling to his feet, "don't talk."

Looking up, Gordon saw Shephard charging up the stairs, his back now turned to Gordon. Concern barely suppressing his anger, Gordon looked over at Alyx to see if she was alright. She was kneeling by Dr. Mossman's headless body, crying.

Gordon gritted his teeth, before putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, fresh tears running down her face. "I'm going to get him." Gordon explained quietly, before turning on his heels and running up the stairs.

—

Shephard slid to the ground, breathing heavily. Although he tried to be silent and inhale softly, his gasmask made that almost impossible. He sounded like Darth Vader.

He was behind a small part of the complex surrounding the courtyard that protruded out enough to give him some cover and a hiding place.

From Gordon Freeman, that is.

Unfortunately for him, a platoon of soldiers marched out the double doors of the building directly opposite the main stairs, being itself the effective lobby of the facility. They'd heard the apparently one sided conversation, the flatlines and, like the good soldiers they were, they had come to investigate.

A few at the front spotted Shephard, lying on the ground over to their left about ten metres away. They pointed and began yelling garbled orders as they hoisted their smallarms.

Shephard didn't have time to express his irritation, because bullets started flying to moment he took off. His M4 was braced against his shoulder in an instant and already soldiers were dropping.

Quicker than he'd expected, orange tracers began to fly from the muzzle and Shephard dived to the ground behind some crates, near the snowy path leading to the helipad he'd originally come from.

_Why didn't I just get back in the helicopter and shoot him from the air after the two guys told me where he was? _Shephard demanded of himself. Of course, he didn't have a reasonable excuse so he got an inner scolding for being so stupid.

Bullets smacked the snow around him, tossing up small flecks of the stuff. Shephard sat up, crouching down low behind the boxes. He looked over at the stairs back on the other side of the courtyard and spotted Gordon Freeman, holding an MP7 and firing one handed at the soldiers.

Having caught his breath Shephard crouched in silence, a nigh inaudible whistle escaping his mouth filters as he breathed. Gordon wouldn't see him if he didn't move, since it would only be out of the corner of his eye anyway.

Shephard looked at his rifle and brushed some flecks of snow off the barrel, pressing himself against the wall of the main building. When he came past, Shephard was going to blast him to shit.

—

The soldiers were lying there, bloody and riddled with lead.

Gordon's mouth twitched reflexively, though he was sure it was the cold wind assaulting his face that caused it. Slowly, his eyes scanned the large courtyard. It was empty, not to mention silent. Only the whistling winds to give him company now.

Most likely soldiers would be flooding from every which way soon, now that two units had already been sent in — and failed — to dispatch him and, quite probably, the Marine bastard that shot Dr. Mossman.

_Where is he? _Gordon wondered tensely.

—

_Where is he? _Shephard wondered tensely.

Usually impatience was not something that could be attributed to him, but his heart was pounding and there was a very pissed off individual somewhere within fifteen metres of him who would only fail at killing him if his reflexes were slower.

Shephard almost made a quiet, cocky snort at the thought. _Faster reflexes than me? He's a damn _scientist_!_

Then again, he'd reacted almost instantaneously to Shephard's attack and had forced him to retreat. Maybe that was why he was so scared, why he was afraid his heart was pounding loud enough to be heard by people nearby: Gordon Freeman had reacted faster.

He looked pretty young, too. Shephard didn't know how only he'd been twenty years ago, but he looked to be in his early thirties and Shephard knew he hadn't been an adolescent.

_Was it possible that that man had used Dr. Freeman as well?_

A cold chill suddenly went up Shephard's spine, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. If Gordon Freeman had been taking orders from that man and now he had ordered him to kill Freeman, who was to say that he wouldn't get someone to kill him once he'd served his purpose.

A thought came to Shephard's mind: _Should I surrender to Freeman_?

After all, how did he know he wasn't as disposable as Dr. Freeman now seemed to be?

_Should I really?_

He seriously thought about the possibility this presented.

For about four seconds.

Then a cold grin split his lips.

_Maybe really._

—

Someone jumped out from behind a stack of crates not five metres away. Gordon instantly had his gun up, the red dot sight pointed straight at his armoured chest.

It was the Marine, alright. But his hands were up.

"Don't shoot!" he pleaded, his face veiled by his gasmask.

Gordon kept his gun aimed at his chest, not sure what to do.

A few short moments of absolute silence.

He didn't have a weapon, so he couldn't really do anything. He had a revolver in a holster at his hips, but Gordon would shoot him before he could even reach for it.

_But this man killed Dr. Mossman. He was trying to kill me._

Gordon looked at his raised hands. He was unarmed. He couldn't kill him.

He gritted his teeth. "Alright, keep your hands up." He managed finally.

The Marine nodded, looking at his MP7 cautiously.

Suddenly, he did something Gordon wasn't even expecting.

He ducked.

Instantly Gordon opened fire, bullets flying from the muzzle of the gun as he pointed it down at the soldier scrambling to his feet on the grou—

Click.

Gordon ran out of ammo.

—

Shephard reacted to this revelation instantly, lunging at Gordon confidently, knocking him to the ground and sending his submachine gun clattering to the ground. Shephard held his arms down, putting his weight in his arms as he let out a strained chuckled at the pitiful sciens—

His hidden eyes widened as Gordon gritted his teeth and swung Shephard off him, getting up as Shephard hit the wall to Gordon's left. Shephard moved, clambering to his feet as Gordon crash-tackled him into the wall, his shoulder breaking one of Shephard's ribs. His PCV suit beeped with angry insistence at the fracture.

_What the fu—_

Shephard grunted and tried to bring his knee up into Gordon's chin, but the scientist had pulled away from the soldier quickly, his eyes looking down at the .357 revolver in Shephard's holster.

Shephard smiled. _He knows I've got the upper hand. He's trying to halt me shooting him._

Gordon rushed at Shephard again, who in turn did the same. They collided, Shephard's fist connecting with Gordon's jaw. Gordon winced, grabbing Shephard's right arm and his left shoulder, putting his foot underneath Shephard's and kicking it out from under him, causing the soldier to drop and therefore for Gordon to pin him down, arms on both arm and shoulder.

Shephard lashed out with his legs, trying to do some damage to the scientist.

Then he looked into the man's bespectacled eyes.

And he saw anger.

Fierce, fiery anger.

A lust for revenge.

And Shephard felt a sharp flash of fear for a instant.

_He's going to kill me._

Gordon, still pinning him down, his arms and legs on top of the soldier, brought his right arm back to punch Shephard's face, but Shephard grabbed Gordon's fist with his good hand and twisted it back.

Gordon yelled in pain, releasing Shephard's right arm and smacking him hard in the face. Shephard wasted a moment in being stunned, which allowed Gordon to smack Shephard's left arm away, thus allowing Gordon's twisted right arm to weakly reach down for Shephard's revolver...

Shephard suddenly thrust violently to the right, trying to throw Gordon off him. Gordon became unbalanced for a second, his left leg slipping off Shephard's chest. Shephard took the opportunity to twist to the other side with the same vigour, knocking Gordon off him completely. Shephard's revolver, having been loosened when Gordon tried to get at it, flew a few metres away. Gordon picked himself up immediately and dived for the gun.

Shephard, however, knew how many rounds were left in the gun. From what he could remember, he only had two left thanks to the masked soldiers snowmobile pursuit. Armed with this information, Shephard didn't try and fight and instead focused on making him waste the remaining two bullets.

Gordon didn't disappoint him, firing as soon as he was up. The bullet hit the concrete steps leading to the lobby and ricocheted away uselessly.

Shephard ran back toward the crates, where he'd left his M4. If he could get the gun he'd stand an almost insurmountable chance at killing this bastard once and for al—

Bang.


	16. Fifteen: Disclosure

**-=Chapter Fifteen: Disclosure=-**

The body hit the ground with a dull thud, the noise muffled by layers of snow that would soon cover him.

Gordon just stood there, a few metres away, holding the revolver in his outstretched arm. He was breathing deeply, his eyes were stinging, but he didn't move.

He just looked down at the lifeless Marine, the back of his gasmask shattered and splattered with blood and chunks of bone. The 357 round had blasted a sizable chunk out the back of his head and even now crimson steaks were running down the back of his neck, dripping onto the snow under him.

_Aliens and humans... _

_No one is safe from me._

_And I am safe from no one._

Gordon's arm fell to his side limply, and the revolver hit the ground with a weak thump.

_He killed Dr. Mossman._

_He got what he deserved._

Gordon averted his eyes slightly. He heard soldiers from somewhere behind him, to his left. He didn't care.

_What he deserved..._

Gunshots.

"Congratulations, Dr. Freeman." The Gman applauded from behind him.

Gordon didn't turn his head. He wasn't in the mood. "Why?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you do this?"

There was a pause. The Gman didn't say anything. "I... apologise," he began slowly, "for lacking the clairvoyance apparently necessary to understand your inquiry."

Gordon stared at the Marine's dead body. "Don't screw with me..." he whispered, "It's obvious you had something to do with this."

The Gman again took refuge in a brief silence. "Explain what evidence you have to confirm this."

"Look," Gordon growled, "this isn't some... _paper _that I've written! This is _you _fucking with the human race, and you want me to... _explain the evidence _I have for it?!"

Another pause. "I said explain what evidence you have."

Gordon groaned exasperatedly. "He's wearing Marine fatigues and combat webbing, and he's got a powered combat vest. He was at Black Mesa a day ago, and _you _brought him here."

"How do you know this?"

Gordon almost exploded. "You have a habit of not giving a _shit _about my questions, don't you?"

There was a soft chuckle from behind Gordon. "On the contrary, Dr. Freeman, I contemplate every query you have."

"I'm nothing to you!" Gordon yelled, turning around suddenly. "You wouldn't give a rat's ass if I di—"

Gordon froze.

There were three bullets about half a metre from his head, directly behind them were three soldiers with submachine guns.

The Gman smiled, inhaling loudly. "As you can see, Dr. Freeman, I do care about you."

Gordon let out a loud breath of hot air, staring at the bullets in disbelief. "You..."

Looking at the bullets, the Gman slowly plucked one out of the air and put it on the ground. "Dr. Freeman," he continued, wrapping two fingers around a second bullet as if it were a small chocolate he was about to elegantly pop into his mouth, "You are more important than you make yourself out to be."

Gordon felt like snorting, but he didn't. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

The Gman paused, looking at Gordon curiously as he stood up from placing the second bullet on the ground. "If you would like, I will show you."

Gordon took a deep breath.

_Will I finally understand why this has happened to me?_

The Gman's eyes stared into his own. "Your choice, Dr. Freeman."

_Choice._

Last time he was given a choice, it was either work for me or don't work for me, the latter resulting in something this man described as 'rather anticlimactic'.

Now he finally had the chance to find out w_h_y he had been given that choice.

"Show me."

The Gman smiled. "As you wish, Dr. Freeman."

There was no flash, only a sudden change in surroundings, as if someone had skipped over a small part of a movie. But nobody had moved. The Gman was still standing in the same position. It was more like time had frozen and the director had changed the set before unfreezing it.

Gordon was standing in a large circular room, blissfully warm in contrast to the frigid cold of the Arctic location he had been in. The room was decorated in bright majestic colours, red, black and gold tapestries covered the walls, and there was an elevated ring around the perimeter of the room, made of expensive looking mahogany wood with red and gold cushioning on the top.

And on top of this ring of seating sat ten people.

The term 'people' was used loosely in Gordon's mind. Certainly, they all appeared to be human beings, but the fact that they were all wearing identical blue suits and purple ties — which, Gordon noticed, didn't actually seem to clash with the bright red and gold of the room despite the fact they were probably one of the worst colour combinations ever — and their eyes were glowing a bright emerald green. Apart from that, there was also the small fact they were glowing in an azure aura, enveloped in a quasi-opaque sky blue luminescence.

The Gman turned around to look at these people. He nodded his head at each one. "Dr. Freeman, may I introduce to you the Eleven Members of the Fissionist Faction."

Gordon didn't say anything, but his brain was insisting that was because it was completely amazed at what he was witnessing.

These 'Fissionists' all had different appearances, some were female, some were male, some appeared to be of Asian descent, others European. Gordon was surprised to notice that among this cultural diversity there wasn't a single black person. He wasn't one to judge these ostensibly divine people, but it seemed a little odd to him.

The man in the middle of this ring of people — being the man directly in front of Gordon — nodded his head at Gordon. "Dr. Freeman."

Gordon swallowed. "Hello," he smiled awkwardly.

"I am the First Member of the Fissionist faction," he continued, thus making Gordon unsure as to whether he had heard him or not. "Therefore I am regarded as the leader type figure, though I possess no superiority to my fellow Members."

Gordon nodded, understanding what he meant. Kind of.

"Member Eight," the First Member turned his gaze to the Gman, but he said nothing further. The Gman nodded and turned to Gordon, who was trying to get his head around the whole situation.

What a change. A minute ago he had been fighting to avenge Dr. Mossman, and now he was in some sort of celestial senate.

_Vengeance..._

_I killed him so easily..._

_To avenge her?_

"As you requested, Dr. Freeman," the Gman began, "I will explain to you the part I play in your various undertakings... and vice versa."

Gordon stood silently, focusing on the Gman. _Finally, everything will be revealed to me._

The Gman sighed. "Firstly, I must confirm that yes, as you hypothesised, I was responsible for the appearance of the Marine Adrian Shephard, a former Corporal of the Hazardous Environment Combat Unit."

_Adrian Shephard... _Gordon thought to himself. _Nope, name doesn't ring a bell._

"I put him in a state of physical inactivity, back at Black Mesa," the Gman continued, obviously unaware of what Gordon was thinking about, "and about six hours ago, I confronted him for the first time in twenty years. To make him an offer."

Even though he didn't have a good feeling about what the Gman was saying, Gordon listened intently.

"I promised him..." the Gman paused, as if thinking of a suitable word. "...exemption from his to-be eternal incarceration in stasis..." the Gman glanced at Gordon, almost cautiously, "I made a deal with him... I ordered he track you down and kill you, Dr. Freeman."

Gordon didn't say anything out loud, although his mind had a few unspoken words to say about that.

"However, I was never intending to allow him to live." The Gman explained, clearly aware that Gordon wasn't too happy about the idea. "He was a mere pawn, used to add augmentation to you through your constant trials."

"So..." Gordon interrupted, frowning, "you lied to him... so that I could kill him for you?"

The Gman said nothing for a moment. "Dr. Freeman, I will explain to you what purpose this had." He paused, rolling his tongue around his mouth, "Your mind speculates as to how you are able to accomplish things like... avoid death countless times and... kill — more efficiently than any human soldier. And through these scenarios that I have made the subtle changes to — like adding Corporal Shephard to the one you were just presented with — I give indirect answers that your mind deciphers itself."

_I can do these things... because I have rapid response reflexes._

_Because I have an instinct to survive._

_To defend those I love._

_To destroy those I hate._

_To avenge those I was too late to save._

Gordon averted his eyes thoughtfully. "So... you _augment _me?"

"Exactly."

Gordon looked up at him, slightly confused by the Gman's apparently emotionless reply. "By adding 'certain factors to an equation?'"

"My own words, as I recall."

Gordon took a deep breath, realising this wasn't really going anywhere. "Tell me."

"I'm afraid I need more detail as to what you mean." The Gman answered almost instantly.

"Tell me what you're doing." Gordon repeated, looking around. "You and these... Fissionists. Are you trying to save Earth? Or destroy the Combine?"

The Gman chuckled. "Ask yourself, Dr. Freeman."

"What do you mean?" Gordon asked, wondering if he'd missed something.

"The reasons for your amazing talents," the Gman smiled, "are our motives."

Gordon frowned. _What?_

"I still don't understand." He admitted, looking away again. He noticed he had blood on his suit.

The Gman sighed. "You have figured it out, Dr. Freeman. How do you do the things you do?"

Gordon looked back at the Gman. "I do them to defend people. To kill the Combine." He paused. "To get vengeance." He paused again, thinking. "To survive."

"And that, Dr. Freeman, is what we are doing." The Gman looked around the large room again, as Gordon thought about what he'd just said. "My mission was given to me... to _defend_ people. To _kill_ the Combine. To get _vengeance_. To _survive._"

Gordon looked back at him, adjusting his glasses. _Ah, now I get it. But now, one thing still remains._

"What is your mission?"

The Gman smiled. "I think now, Dr. Freeman... you deserve to know."

And suddenly, Gordon disappeared.

—

_I am the Eight Member of the Fissionist faction._

_We were elected as the Guardians of the Universe._

_Our mission: defend the multitude of innocent species across the galaxy that do not know the hunger of the Combine._

_The Combine... they are a multicultural collection of numerous species who have been destroyed and consumed by the Shu'ulathoi._

_The Combine Advisors are the founders of this loathsome species._

_Everyone else... is a victim._

_You have seen what the Combine has done to humans they capture. They are made into the humanoid troops of the species, or mindless Stalkers. _

_You are not their only victims of this vile procedure._

_Others before you have been preyed on, the humanoid ones turned into soldiers, the others are turned into slaves._

_Nihilanth and its kind were one of the latter._

—

_We came up with a plan to destroy this horror._

"This plan... it is exceptionally hazardous."

"We are all in acceptance of this fact. However there is no other way."

"And if this plan fails?"

"This plan itself is fail-safe. The only risk is the subject race will be so damaged by the Combine that they will not be able to overcome them when the time comes, so much so that not even infinite determination would be able to compensate for them."

"And I have been elected to ensure such decay does not come about."

"Correct."

Silence.

_A risky plan involving a distraction via the medium of Portal Storms to draw the attention of the Combine away from their homeworld, before having the inhabitants attack suddenly and violently to throw the Combine into disarray, allowing us to come in and crush them at their epicentre._

"Has the subject race been selected?"

"Indeed."

_That distraction was selected to be based on Earth._

_We chose it because the human race already knew about the border world Xen — the only place in the universe that has the critical minerals that create Portal Storms — and was experimenting on these same crystals we had decided to use to create the Portal Storms needed._

"Very well, Members. I will begin the operation immediately."

"Thank you, Member Eight."

_I was selected to execute the operation. _

—

_I gave Wallace Breen the sample._

"Dr. Breen, I have a proposal to make to you."

"Yes, Mr...?"

"You may call me a mutual friend of the science community."

"Well, go ahead."

"I have, in my possession, a crystal retrieved from the border world Xen."

Silence.

"However did you...?"

"My methods are irrelevant. What you need to know is that the potency of this specific specimen is over ninety five percent."

"Ninety five percent! How on earth did you possibly...?"

"I repeat, my methods are irrelevant. Now, back to business. The only payment I require is success. The subject this corporation is delving into has my interests and, should you be successful, I have it on good authority that Washington itself would be extremely interested in a possible deal with Black Mesa. Suffice it to say there will be a substantial amount of money involved with success."

_After Dr. Breen accepted my offer, I set everything else up and watched over the facility, to find an individual who would become the saviour of the human race after the Combine had settled on Earth._

_An individual to lead the sudden and violent attack we required._

_And I chose you._

_As I have already told you, Dr. Freeman, I also chose Ms. Vance._

The cry of a baby echoed through the burning living quarters. Flames played around the kitchen, dancing around the smouldering body of a woman.

A door opened.

Footsteps could be heard above the crackle of the fire. A silhouette in a suit walked through the flames, across the living room into the small bedroom, whereupon he found the child, crying in her crib. The flames had not yet reached the bedroom, but glowing orange light was splashing gleeful shadows on the wall opposite the door.

The man lowered his briefcase, placing it on the carpeted floor. He took a few steps toward the crib and gently picked up the baby. After a few moments, she stopped crying.

Something on the bedside table caught his eye as it glinted in the light of the fire. He glanced over at it. A greyscale photo of three people, two of them he recognised.

Slowly, he walked over to the photo and picked it up. A small smile cracked his lips, and he walked back over to his briefcase, putting it inside.

Then he walked out the bedroom door and closed it behind him.

_However, the other members of the Fissionist faction objected to this, reasoning she was a mere child._

"When I plucked her from Black Mesa, I acted in the face of objections that she was a mere child and of no practical use to anyone..."

_I selected her because I knew that you knew her, and that she would be told about you and your endeavours at Black Mesa. She would grow up knowing you as a hero._

"Oh, Azian..."

"I apologise, but I did all I could."

Silence.

"This photo..."

"You took this as well?"

"It interested me."

Another pause.

"Who are you?"  
Again, another pause.

"I am the man Dr. Wallace Breen has been referring to when talking about Black Mesa's mutual friend."

"Why did you save my daughter?"

"I noticed you in the photo, and so I decided to try and find you. As I have succeeded in this I would like to require one thing of you."

"Yes?"

"Tell her about Dr. Freeman."

_I also chose Adrian Shephard for reasons I have already explained to you._

_Of course, the human race had no idea what was going on and decided to act. They destroyed Black Mesa with a thermonuclear bomb and — while it was not part of our original plan — I myself made sure it happened so the Combine could never use the facility when they finally arrived._

—

_As planned, the Portal Storms attracted the Combine to Earth. They took over within seven hours._

_And twenty years later, with Alyx old enough to perform the tasks we required of her, you still at a prime age to perform the tasks we required of _you, _the other members contacted me._

"Member Eight, it is time to... wake him up."

There was a brief chuckle. "Rise and shine, Mr. Freeman. Rise and... shine."

_You moved quickly. Quicker than even we had anticipated. Within a week and a half... well, three days to you..._

The Nova Prospekt teleportation...

_...you had already killed the Combine's human administrator..._

"No!"

"You need me..."

_...and started the countdown to the Citadel's implosion. This was when I put you in stasis again._

"Time, Dr. Freeman?"

_Originally, I was intending to make sure you escaped the destruction of City 17 by bringing you out of stasis outside of the blast radius, and to move Alyx out of the city myself. _

_Of course, your Vortigaunt friends intervened._

"Alright, it's already been a minute. Go."

The only door of the large circular Fissionist council chamber opened, leading to eternal darkness.

But there were uninvited guests.

A circle of violet Vortigaunts was surrounding Dr. Freeman.

The Gman's eyes widened. _No... No! Such intervention could throw the entire plan into chaos!_

Suddenly, he sneered angrily. These ignorant bastards were not going to sign Earth's death certificate if he had anything to say.

"We'll see... about that."

_Instead of appearing outside of the city and out of harm's way, you appeared just outside of the Citadel._

_I was extremely annoyed, as were the other members._

_During your time escaping the city with Ms. Vance, I discussed matters with the other members._

"Direct intervention has now proven to be of ambiguous motives to the inhabitants of this planet. Under no circumstances should we directly interfere with these matters anymore. It may cost us the entire species."

_We decided not to directly intervene anymore, in case the Vortigaunts too kthings the wrong way and tried to stop me again._

_I told you this during your time in the Victory Mines._

"I wish I could do more than keep an eye on you, but I have agreed to abide by certain... restrictions."

_I also indirectly explained that Alyx was essential to our plan and that you were to defend her with your life._

"See her safely to White Forest, Doctor Freeman. She may require more care than was previously the case."

_When you arrived at White Forest, you defended the rocket I had so kindly provided to Dr. Magnusson — without his knowledge, of course. In turn, the rocket landed the final blow to the Combine, and it was my turn to give the other Members the all clear to act._

_We attacked the Combine homeworld not long ago._

—

"And that, Dr. Freeman," The Gman smiled as they returned to the council chambers, "is my mission."

Gordon was silent for a few moments. "So... you planned all this? The destruction of the Citadel? The rocket launch?"

"Every single detail," the Gman affirmed, "apart from the Vortigaunts intervention, of course."

Gordon put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it. "So... what happens now? I mean, if the Combine has been cut off from us and you've launched an attack on their homeworld, what's next?"

The Gman chuckled. "Next, Dr. Freeman, we win the war against the Combine and _you_ destroy the Borealis."

The director changed the set again, but this time the Gman wasn't needed so he was watching in the audience.

Again.

"Is that all this is?" Gordon asked the Arctic sky. "Is the Fissionist faction merely an interactive audience watching the movie of life?"

The sky, keeping with tradition, didn't have a vocal reply.

Gordon's shoulder sagged, shaking his head. _Audience watching the movie of life... sounds like something a philosopher would say._

He noticed that the soldiers had disappeared, but where to he couldn't guess. His MP7 was lying in the snow, having been thrown from the fray not long ago. Gordon trudged over to it and holstered it, not bothering to reload.

"Gordon?"

He snapped his head around, and saw Alyx near the top of the stairs. Even from where she was, he could see her eyes had lit up and she was running toward him.

Gordon smiled. _She's OK._

Not long after, she crashed into him arms first, holding him tightly. "Oh, you're OK!"

Gordon chuckled quietly. "I could say the same for you."

"Gordon, you were fighting an angry soldier!" she looked down, slightly ashamed. "I was being a little girl..."

Gordon hugged her tighter. "Hey, don't say that. I mean, who _doesn't _cry when someone they love dies?"

Alyx nodded, pursing her lips. She spotted the body. "That him?"

Gordon nodded slowly. "He's pretty well equipped."

Alyx let go of him and walked over to his body. "Hmm..." she looked over him. "He's got powered armour."

"Don't touch it," Gordon insisted, "it's most likely directly connected to his nervous system and even though he's dead it'd probably be impossi—" he stopped when Alyx lifted up the body and slid the black vest off him, "—ble to remove here." He finished weakly. "Wow, I guess it detaches when the user kicks the bucket."

Alyx gave him a small smile, before moving to put the vest on. "Alyx, don't do that." Gordon exclaimed suddenly.

"Why not?" She asked.

"We don't know anything about it."

"Oh, alright. I'll take it with me though." She eyed him cheekily, like a mischievous child planning on a midnight cookie heist, "so we can check it out when we get back to White Forest."

Gordon nodded. "OK."

"Can I take his guns?"

Gordon shrugged, raising his arms. "Why not? It's not like he's going to use them."

Alyx grinned. "Awesome, thanks!"

Gordon shook his head and laughed softly at her enthusiasm to plunder the body. She grabbed his M4 from behind the crates. "I think this is what he used to kill Judith." She explained quietly.

Gordon nodded. "Yeah."

She slowly put it around her. "Hey!" she exclaimed, suddenly energetic again. She pointed at something in the ground.

Gordon looked. It was the revolver he shot the Marine with. "Huh, that's his revolver." He looked up at her. "The one that made the hole in his head."

She picked it up. "Think I should take it?"

Gordon laughed. "If you want to. Hey, pass it here for a moment."

Alyx tossed it to him, and he caught it easily as he pulled out his crowbar and began scraping the barrel. "What are you doing?" Alyx demanded curiously.

"You'll see." Gordon replied.

Alyx shrugged to herself and looked around some more. "Hey, this is weird."

Gordon stood back up and put his crowbar away. "What?'

"There're three fired bullets on the ground."

_Three bullets._

_Should I tell her?_

Gordon looked at her as she scooped them up. "Know where they're from?"

_Should I explain everything to her?_

Gordon shook his head. "I've no idea."

Alyx shrugged, putting them in the pockets of her worn jeans. "Hey, what'd you do?"

"Hm? Ah." Gordon passed her the Colt Python. She studied the barrel. Crudely engraved on the side was a single word.

Irony.

Alyx laughed. "It is a bit, isn't it?"

"My thoughts exactly." Gordon agreed. "Come on, we should be going."

* * *

And so ends our heroes' adventures in Inferno Abyss.

While writing it I was sent a message by reader Master Hybris who suggested I give Alyx Shephard's PCV. I thought it was an excellent idea, but while writing I realised that it would become a problem later on, for multiple reasons. I'm not going to explain any more than that.

And I missed my opportunity to post a fake chapter as an April Fools. Would've been interesting. I hadn't planned one, but I just thought about it now and I could have killed everyone and said it was the end.

And that it was April 1st, 2021.

But then I would've contradicted myself (I think it says the month in chapter nine) so screw it. I would also say happy bithday Jesus because he was actually born in March or April, but people would think I mean his death and ressurection 'cause of Easter.

...

Happy Birthday Jesus.

And on that random note, we out. Peace.


	17. Sixteen: Permanence

**-=Chapter Sixteen: Permanence=-**

**Overtaken Combine Outpost, 4:19 PM**

_It's been almost four hours, _Barney thought to himself as he cleaned out the parts of his pulse rifle gently and lovingly as if it were a baby.

A few months ago, he'd been cleaning one of the same guns out and apparently he'd done it wrong. Something — a power source or a similar energy type thing — exploded from the gun, singeing Barney's hand and setting the old shirt he'd been cleaning with on fire.

Barney let a short chuckled escape his lips at the thought. He couldn't remember if he'd been on duty at the time or not. He was pretty sure he hadn't been, otherwise the Combine might've suspected him of being completely retarded, and according to them only humans suffered from that.

_Yeah, right. _Barney thought to himself, shaking his head absent mindedly, _I've seen the Combine do some real stupid things before._

Someone rapped on the door of the room. Barney looked up, placing the grimy charred shirt and the gun sear on the desk in front of him. The outpost was being fixed up ever since it was overthrown and already the power was back on, so Barney could enjoy basic heating systems inside the small quarters he was in. "Come in,"

The door opened and a rebel came in, holding an MP7 casually in his hand. Apparently he'd been on guard duty outside. "Mr. Calhoun," he began. "Gordon and Alyx are back, and... Dr. Mossman isn't with them."

Barney frowned, standing up. "Where are they?"

"Just outside," the rebel pointed over his shoulder. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure as hell it's not good."

—

Gordon and Alyx explained everything to Barney in what was intended to be a sort of briefing room. Things were tense and quiet, and the room itself was barely lit. The walls were light grey, lacking emotion completely. It intensified the atmosphere.

Barney took it all in, nodding slowly every so often.

"Well, I didn't know her so well," he admitted afterwards, "being involved as an undercover Civil Protection officer. But I heard from Dr. Vance that she was an excellent scientist." He looked down uncomfortably. "So... what did she say about the Borealis?"

Alyx rubbed her chin unconsciously. "She said there was some sort of artificial intelligence in control of the ship and it posed a potential threat to the Resistance."

Barney looked up at her, confused. "What?"

Alyx frowned, herself confused at Barney's response. "What's wrong?"

"I thought the Borealis had portal technology on it!" Barney insisted.

Gordon shrugged the idea away. "That's what Magnusson thought. Obviously he was wrong."

Gordon hadn't made mention of his encounter with the Gman, even though Barney knew about him now. He decided it was better they didn't know until all this had blown over and they were back at White Forest.

Barney snorted at Gordon's comments on Magnusson, once again annoyed at the haughty scientist. "Damn guy thinks he's all that," he looked over at Gordon, shaking his head. "So this robot thing could be dangerous to us?"

"That's what Judith told us." Gordon nodded.

Barney scratched his neck, exhaling tensely. "We need to blow it up, then."

"I agree," Alyx added, "if it poses such a threat to us, we need to get rid of it."

Gordon nodded, concurring. "Do we have any way to tell White Forest about all this?"

"Oh!" Barney suddenly regained his normal vigour, seemingly eager to forget about everything he'd been told. Turning around quickly, he kept talking. "Since the power's back on," he continued, walking over to a rectangular device of some sort, "all the communications are workin'. We've made sure that the Combine aren't listening in on us."

Gordon and Alyx moved over behind him as he sat down at the table, interested to see what he was doing, fiddling with the device. "Alrighty..." he paused, listening to the headset he'd just donned. "White Forest, this is Barney Calhoun speaking, do you copy?"

Static. "White Forest, do y—"

"This is White Forest," a communications officer interrupted. "Go ahead, Mr. Calhoun."

"I have a report I need to give to Dr. Kleiner, and Dr. Magnusson."

"Proceed."

"Dr. Mossman was recovered from the Combine prison we had the pictures of," Barney began, "but she was killed while there."

The officer took a deep breath. "Right. Continue."

"However, she did tell Gordon and Alyx that the technology on the Borealis was not portal technology, repeat, it is _not _portal technology. She explained that it was actually a type of artificial intelligence in control of the ship. We are requesting permission to destroy the Borealis."

Gordon was interested at the formal, no-nonsense tone Barney was using. That was unusual.

"OK, Mr. Calhoun. I'll get an answer for you." The reply came.

"Alright, cheers. Out." Barney stood up and switched the radio off. He looked at the two energetically. "Well, now we just have to wait. I'll grab you guys something to eat."

Gordon cocked an eyebrow. "Is it edible?"

Barney chuckled. "Sure it is. In fact, it's not actually that bad. They've got bread, Gordon. _Bread._"

To Gordon, bread wasn't that special. He'd had some from breakfast a few weeks ago, at Black Mesa. Peanut butter, he'd had on it.

Alyx's eyes lit up. "Really? Do they have spreads?"

Gordon guessed bread wasn't commonplace anymore. Of course, no one had told him that but he assumed that he was supposed to either know or have just taken a wild stab at it, considering the state humankind was in.

Barney shrugged. "I doubt it, Alyx. Fact is, the only things I ever saw my fellow Metrocops eating was these weird bars. I got food from Resistance members while on duty. When I could, that is."

Alyx's shoulders sagged slightly. "Bread would be great, thanks."

Barney gave a short nod, before heading off.

Alyx sighed. "When was the last time you had spreads, Gordon?"

It wasn't the average subject of conversation, but Gordon went along with it. "Before the Combine came. I had peanut butter."

Alyx's eyes lit up again. "Peanut butter! I had that once!" she grinned, her mind reminiscing. Then she frowned slightly. "There was also this really disgusting thing dad found... it had the weirdest name... iSnack 2.0, I think it was."

Gordon had no idea what the company who made the stuff had been smoking when they came up with that name, but he'd never heard of it so it was probably foreign.

"The funniest bit was what it looked like," she laughed at the thought. "It was brown, but not peanut butter brown. _Crap_ brown."

Gordon laughed a bit too, thinking about this spread. Sounded like it would be _really_ popular.

But that wasn't all he thought about. In the back of his head, something was raging at the Combine.

_They've damaged the human race so much that bread with spreads is seen as marinated duck._

Gordon rubbed his forehead.

"What's wrong, Gordon?" Alyx asked suddenly.

"Hm?" Gordon looked up at her. "Nothing, I'm fine. Sorry, I'm just tired."

Alyx looked at him in such a way Gordon couldn't tell whether she believed him or not, but either way she seemed concerned. "There's some beds in case..."

"No, no," Gordon waved the offer away, "I'm alright."

Alyx nodded slowly, pursing her lips. "Sorry, Gordon."

Then she started crying.

Gordon didn't know what he'd done wrong.

He quickly walked over to Alyx and hugged her. She had no objections.

And they stood there in that gloomy grey room, Alyx crying on Gordon's shoulder.

"Poor Dr. Mossman..."

—

After Alyx had calmed down, Barney returned with some bread. It was wholemeal and had the taste of defrosted bread, but Gordon was really hungry so he ate it anyway. The next thing they received came about two or so minutes later.

"_This is... —ed Uniform con... —ecieve?"_

Barney leaned forward on his seat and grabbed the radio — swallowing a mouthful of bread — even though it was most likely a Combine unit. "This is Yellow Sun Outpost. Please repeat."

The rebels had found records that the base was named Yellow Sun, so that was now the base's official radio callsign. Barney hoped that was what the Combine knew it as on the radio.

The person on the other end didn't seem to care who it was. _"—low Su... —post, thi..."_

"Who is this? You're breaking up."

"_They're ev... —own soldi... —r somethin... —ealis!"_

The radio cut to hash.

"The hell was that all about?" Barney wondered, leaning back and taking another bite.

—

White Forest contacted them again not long after.

"_Rebel outpost, this is White Forest, do you copy?"_

"I copy, White Forest." Barney answered. "Go ahead."

"_White Forest is sending three Combine Hunter-Choppers to assist your attack on the Borealis."  
_Barney couldn't believe his ears. _Three _Combine Hunter-Choppers? "I'm not sure I got that, White Forest. Did you say three Hunter-Choppers?"

"_Affirmative, Rebel outpost."_

Barney was amazed. The Resistance had maybe captured one _damaged_ Hunter-Chopper did they find three?

"ETA, White Forest?"

"Approximately an hour and a half."

"Thanks, White Forest. Out." Barney stood up, turning to Gordon and Alyx, who themselves were staring wide eyed at each other. "How good is that?" Barney exclaimed.

"Hell, that ship doesn't stand a chance," Gordon whistled, "One was on my ass most of the time I was trying to get to Black Mesa East. They do _not _leave you alone and they are _nasty_."

Barney nodded. "I've had firsthand experience too. They pack quite a punch, eh?"

"Yeah," Gordon nodded. "Wonder where they got them from?"

Barney shrugged. "Tell you the truth, I don't care. Thing is we have them and we are going to beat the crap out of that ship."

**Hunter Chopper Helix Three, airspace above the Arctic Circle**

"White Forest, this is Helix Three," The co-pilot of the Resistance Hunter-Chopper callsigned Helix Three spoke into his mike. "We're picking up a transmission, the same signal as Yellow Sun, but there's too much interference. Over."

The radio crackled back. _"Helix Three, can you piece anything together?"_

"Negative, White Forest..." the co-pilot paused, listening to something, "Hold on, we're getting something... Yellow Sun, this is the Resistance Hunter-Chopper Helix Three, do you copy?"

"_... —mbine ... —ded our wa... —TA?"_

"Yellow Sun, do you copy?" The co-pilot repeated.

"_The Combine...! —head... —ETA?"_

"Uh..." the co-pilot checked the ship's computer. They'd been able to figure out all the uses for the numerous dashboards and devices which were thankfully in English. "Approximately forty minutes."

"_...rry up! W... —ight not la... —ng!"_

The radio broke up. "Yellow Sun, do you read?"

The pilot glanced at the co-pilot. "You think they're in trouble?"

"Positive," the co-pilot nodded. "White Forest, you there?"

"_Affirmative, Helix Three. What was the message from Yellow Sun?"_

"They appear to be under attack, sir." The co-pilot explained. "Either that, or they're about to be."

"_What did you get?"_

"We heard Mr. Calhoun saying something like 'the Combine' and 'headed their way', but we couldn't be sure."

"_Alright, Helix Three. Make sure you get there in time." _There was a tense pause._ "We've already lost enough of our leaders these past few days. Out."_

**Yellow Sun**

Barney lowered the binoculars. "Hell, they're only about ten minutes away!"

Gordon looked around at the rebels, hurriedly gathering weapons and preparing themselves for attack. They were standing at the other end of the outpost to the side they'd attacked, thus it was fortunately less damaged. There were two tall guard towers looming over the concrete-and-brick buildings the Combine had made. The whole base was great against smallarms fire, but heavier than that and things would start crashing down around people's heads.

"Are you sure we shouldn't just leave?" Gordon asked Barney, looking back at his friend.

Barney looked over at Gordon, his eyes shining with fierce determination. "It'll take too long to get out of here and we can't just leave all our stuff here for them to take, Gordon. Besides, our Hunter-Choppers know we're here."

Alyx nodded, hoisting her rifle. It was her AWM sniper rifle, the one she'd gotten from White Forest. "And we're not going to let them do that, are we?"

It was less a question than it was a reminder. Gordon showed he was in agreement by smiling encouragingly and giving a brief nod, holding his pulse rifle firmly. "Never."

—

The unit was about the size of a military company, about two hundred strong. At the moment, they were safely tucked away in the bowels of about six armoured personnel carriers, or APCs as they were often abbreviated as.

Actually, they were closer to a mix between both Infantry Fighting Vehicle and Armoured Personnel Carrier, having an arsenal consisting of a pulse rifle turret — with an increased rate of fire — located beside the glass turret platform that operated it and the multiple guided rocket launchers on the sides.

However, these vehicles were not treaded. And while treaded vehicles tended to be a lot slower than ones with four or more tyres, they were resistant to a little something cal—

_Bang!_

Alyx, lying flat on the large snowy mound near the outpost, pulled the bolt of her AWM sniper rifle back with a satisfying _shick _sound, a now empty cartridge rolling a short way down the hill, before releasing the bolt with another, slightly louder _shuck _as it slid back into place, another bullet now loaded.

She adjusted her aim, looking at her handiwork. A single bullet had just taken out the wheel of an approaching APC, causing it to swerve out of control before flipping as it took a sharp uncontrollable turn to the left, stopping angled on its roof, the turret platform cockpit crushed under its own weight.

Alyx smiled from behind the scope, ignoring any survivors who would show themselves. She took aim at another APC, firing at the right rear wheel.

Missed. Well, nobody was perfect. Besides, they were moving quickly and she was way out of the rifle's effective range, so really any damage done was an incredible feat.

Alyx sniffed dismissively, wrenching the bolt back. No time for boasting, especially not to herself.

She was up there in case people decided to go on foot instead of hiding in their cosy vehicles. While usually there was no comparison between running on foot and hiding in an armoured car-like thing, when the enemy was firing _rockets _at you the choice became a sane option.

A rocket fired, closely followed by another, one of them hitting home, the other exploding in the snow somewhere in front of it.

Alyx moved her rifle back over to the disabled APC, keeping a patient eye on it. Years of facing the Combine had taught her that such an attribute was extremely useful to have when actively fighting their people.

There, two soldiers ducking low, running hard. Alyx followed closely, before firing a shot she was sure would hit. It did, the soldier closest to her dropping from a magnum slug having blown off his upper leg. His friend began zig-zagging, not waiting to be picked off by...

A loud crack echoed out through the outpost valley, the soldier's chest sporting a new hole for its lungs to get air through.

Alyx looked over at the other side of the valley, where the other sniper was. She had lowered her rifle slightly to reload.

_One shot, one kill, _Alyx thought with a grim smile.

—

Two more rockets streaked toward the incoming APCs, both hitting home. Even though they didn't do enough damage to be lethal, they still packed a heavy punch.

Gordon never got used to the backblast these things had. He always made sure to check behind him so that no poor soul got fried by the ignited gases spewed out the back of them. He'd heard that people had done things like that before, even before the Combine came to Earth.

Recoil was also intense stuff, forcing him to brace himself each time he fired. Walking while firing verged on insane, not to mention it was completely illogical.

Barney lowered his launcher beside Gordon, loading another warhead into it. "Not long now," he muttered tensely as he fired. The roar of the rocket propulsion was incredibly loud and Gordon's ears used to ring every time, but now he'd gotten used to it.

He hoped he wasn't going deaf.

Gordon hadn't ever really thought of them as something as simple as a rocket propelled grenade, despite the name shoving the idea in his face. All they were was, basically, a grenade strapped to a mini jet engine.

Gordon shrugged away his distracting thoughts, reloading the launcher with an almost casual attitude. Like this was just another day at the office for him.

He almost laughed at the thought. Just another day at the office was the reason he was here. There we were, doing a completely normal test that had been done countless times before, and apparently that time we went too far and some serious shit went down.

He never thought, back at Black Mesa, that he'd be firing rockets at big electric APCs in North Sweden in a month or so. If someone had told him that he would've asked them what they'd been smoking.

_How times have changed._

—

As the first Combine rockets launched from approaching APCs, people began to retreat from the perimeter of the outpost. They were all thinking of the fate the previous owners had had, mainly due to the devastating barrage of rockets they had been so generously been provided.

Unfortunately, something similar was also easily available to be given by the APCs.

Nobody bothered to try and open fire with small arms as the rockets started to hit the walls. Explosion sent debris everywhere, icy dust sprayed all over people as chunks of concrete and metal went flying across the soon-to-be crimson landscape of white.

The first of the items that would become the material of reminiscence had been laid. And then came the ocean of empty cartridges and used shells.

—

Alyx wasn't worried for herself. After all, she was up on top of a hill, out of the range of gunfire from anything but a sniper rifle, the enemy wouldn't waste rockets on her and she was small enough to stay hidden while they fought in the valley below her.

She was worrying about Gordon. She knew that, if he knew her thoughts, he would probably shake his head and tell her not to, but it wasn't something you could turn on and off at will.

_Bang!_

The soldier's head exploded violently, a spray of blood and chunks of cranium splattering the snow.

Gordon had gained something from Alyx she couldn't stop until either one of them died.

Her concern for his safety.

Alyx thought about him as she ripped the bolt of her rifle back, realigning her aim on the mass of Combine soldiers now streaming out of the APCs. He was always throwing himself at the enemy, doing the most dangerous things without a single word of objection. He was always eager to do damage to the Combine.

But it wasn't to avenge _himself_. And in that sense, he was so much different to all the others.

You could tell by the look in his eyes he wasn't doing what he did for himself.

He did it for the human race.

Alyx fired another round, the bullet suppling a soldier's heart an airhole.

Everyone she knew had a reason to avenge themselvesas _individuals_. The Combine had committed personal crimes against every one of them, and yet Gordon never fought to avenge any wrongs committed against him.

Maybe to survive, yes. Only kamikazes lacked this attribute.

But not to avenge _himself_ as an individual.

Alyx frowned, reloading her rifle.

Also, where had he been all these years? Had he been somewhere in Europe as long as she had? Had he only just gotten out of North America? She really needed to ask him these things.

_After all,_ she thought to herself, _maybe there is a way to justify a twenty three year old wanting to ask a forty seven year old out._

—

Gordon swung his pulse rifle around, blasting the two soldiers before they could get a shot off.

More rockets launched from his right, somewhere near a building. He dived to the ground as a volley of shot slammed into the concrete beside him, before Barney brought his own xeno-assault rifle around and blew the soldier's head to hell.

Gordon nodded. "Thanks for the save."

Barney nodded back. "Welcome,"

They opened fire again.

—

No, he couldn't be forty seven. Surely not.

Alyx tried to understand what was going on. She knew she should be shooting people, but she decided to put that on hold for the moment.

He had the vigour of a man in his twenties, maybe early thirties. But then again, maybe the Combine hadn't taken that away from him. But then he _looked _only a few years older than her. _Definitely_ younger than Barney, and he was born before Gordon.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered, partly from frustration that everything was so confusing, partly from confusion itself.

"It is a conundrum," someone agreed from behind her, "one that you will have difficulty solving yourself."

Alyx snapped her head around. There was a man in a blue suit standing behind her, smiling, his suit somehow as clean as it would be if it were a day old. Also, there was no snow on him.

Alyx frowned. "Who are you?"

She had other questions involving 'how did you get here' and 'where did you come from', but she decided who are you would have to suffice. Plus, it was the first thing that came into her head.

The man chuckled. It was an odd chuckle. It had no humour behind it, but it seemed genuine enough and it didn't sound cold. "I believe we have met previously, Ms. Vance. Twice, by my count."

Alyx's eyes widened suddenly.

_Bright light..._

_Scary things on the walls..._

_Someone cradling me... unfamiliar clothing... unfamiliar smell..._

_Comforting..._

She blinked, looking closely at the man. "You..."

_Voices..._

_An unearthly feeling... as if my life was being restored..._

"_Now, listen carefully, my dear..."_

"_...prepare for unforeseen consequences."_

"You're that man..." she whispered, gazing at him. "Who are you?" she repeated.

The man chuckled. "Someone who previously had to keep secret about his existence. Now that the Combine is at war on their homeworld, I am free to make myself known to the general public."

Alyx looked around her. The snow wasn't falling. She put her rifle down and stood up, noticing the man was quite tall. "You've stopped time..." she muttered, It wasn't a question, rather a statement.

"Yes, my dear." The man nodded calmly. "Because I have some matters that I have determined you need to know about."

"Like what...?" Alyx asked curiously.

"Well, two things as a sort of... introduction: One, I am part of a faction of divine guardians, entrusted with defending the innocent species' of the universe. Two, Dr. Freeman is only twenty seven."

—

Things weren't looking good. The rebels were losing numbers, appallingly quickly compared to previous battles, and the Combine seemed in no hurry to give up and go home.

Gordon looked at his watch. "Come on, where the hell are they?"

Barney gritted his teeth as a soldier grabbed at him, before he threw the perpetrator into the wall and fired a burst into his head. "I think they said their ETA was forty or something minutes," he muttered to Gordon.

"Yeah, well they should be here then!" Gordon growled, ducking down as something exploded. He spotted blackened limbs land in the snow.

This wasn't good.

Gordon hoped Alyx was alright.

—

"So... you planned all this?" Alyx inquired, looking around the large round hall, at the glowing Members seated around the room. "You were the one who saved me at Black Mesa?"

The Gman nodded. "That's correct."

"Wow..." Alyx shook her head slowly. "Thank you." She managed finally, laughing a little.

"Your gratitude is appreciated," the Gman smiled. "As such, I appreciate the part you play in Dr. Freeman's life."

Alyx laughed softly again, looking away. "You're welcome."

"Still," the Gman straightened his tie professionally. "Things are still far from over. There is something I must warn you about, something inevitable in the unpredictability known as the future."

"What is it?" Alyx asked. Enough bad things had happened already.

"It is something I cannot divulge, for reasons I cannot divulge." The Gman admitted grimly. "But I can and will continue to warn you: Prepare for unforeseen consequences."

—

"OK, smoke 'em." The pilot ordered.

The three Hunter-Choppers turrets warmed up, whirring loudly, before releasing a hail of fire on the Combine forces. Everyone had heard them coming for a while now, but the Combine had nowhere to go so they just tried to take cover.

The choppers flew overhead, dropping a torrent of explosives on the Combine force, causing apocalyptic damage to them. Bodies went flying across the soiled snow, flames whisked away in the cold breeze. Two APCs exploded in unison, their chassis rolling across the tossed up snow.

The rebels stayed hidden, watching from cover, not wanting to take part in the Combine's sufferings.

After a mere minute of hellfire, the Combine force was nothing but a motley collection of twisted metal and dismembered limbs.

The helicopters landed, throwing up a light whirlwind of snow before touching down gently on the ground amid the remains of the Combine force. Rebels began pouring from the choppers, yelling various things as they moved over to the base, their weapons hoisted.

Gordon and Barney approached the congregation, and a senior officer walked over to them, hand extended. "Dr. Freeman, Mr. Calhoun," he began, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Baxter."

The man had short black hair, closely cropped to his head and a small amount of black stubble on his chin. He looked to be in his early forties, maybe around Barney's age.

Gordon shook — remembering how young he really was — and Barney followed suit. "Thanks for the save, sir." Gordon nodded.

The colonel laughed. "Oh, no need to thank me, Dr. Freeman. And by the way, I think you two are the ones _I_ should be calling sir."

Gordon frowned. "But, I don't even have a military rank..."

"Neither do I, really." Barney agreed.

The colonel laughed again. "Dr. Freeman, you are one of the leaders of the rebellion. Consider yourself a _four star general_, at least."

He turned to Barney. "As for you, Mr. Calhoun, I think you also deserved that rank for the countless rebels you've saved during the dangerous time undercover with Civil Protection."

He smiled, turning back to Gordon. "But I'm not here to give promotions. I'm here to help you people out with the destruction of a certain Aperture Science vessel."

"Gordon!" someone yelled out from somewhere to Gordon's left. He turned, as did Barney, and they spotted Alyx running over to them, holding her AWM rifle in her hands.

As she reached them, she instantly ditched the weapon and grabbed Gordon, hugging him tightly. "Guess what I heard?" she smiled, looking up at him.

Gordon cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Someone told me that _you _are only twenty seven."

Gordon immediately assumed Barney had told all, but then he realised there wouldn't have been a chance for him to do so. "How did you...?" he trailed off, having an idea. "Oh, no way."

Alyx withdrew, smiling widely. "Oh, yes way. And don't worry, I know everything."

"That's not necessarily a good thing."

Alyx laughed. "He's our guardian, Gordon."

Gordon shrugged. "That doesn't mean I entirely agree with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Alyx, he's been using me." Gordon looked down at himself. "Everything I've become is because of him."

Alyx looked him in the eye. "So you're saying he's made you into who you are."

"Exactly."

"Why is that a _bad_ thing?"

Gordon stopped, thinking about what Alyx had said.

_Why _is_ that a bad_ _thing?_

"It isn't a bad thing," he realised aloud, looking at Alyx. "Because of him, I can defend the people I love. Destroy those I hate. Avenge those I was too late to save..."

_Defend those I love._

_Destroy those I hate._

_Avenge those I was too late to save._

"He lied to me," Gordon suddenly realised. "He said that he didn't define who I was..."

"What are you talking about?" Alyx asked.

_The people define you..._

_But that's not the whole truth._

_He defines who I am as well._

My mission was given to me... to defend people. To kill the Combine. To get vengeance. To survive.

_He and the Fissionists._

_They have made me who I am._

"That, Dr. Freeman..." the Gman whispered, his tone deadly serious, "is wrong."

Gordon snapped his head around, looking at the Gman. He was standing next to the colonel, looking for all the world like an everyday lawyer with his client.

Except his client wasn't moving.

"Oh really?" Gordon retorted. "Why is that?"

The Gman sighed. "Dr. Freeman, you have such an incredible mind and yet you are perceiving things incorrectly."

He looked at the frozen landscape, the buildings, the corpses. "I told you last night..." he continued, "That you are who you are."

"No one ever said you couldn't lie."

The Gman looked back at Gordon casually. "And why would I need to do that? What intention would require such fabrication?"

"I don't know," Gordon persisted, started to get irritated, "you're so vague about everything that there might be something else I don't know about."

The Gman smiled. "I told you that the only thing I do is add you to a scenario, thus creating a different equation."

"So?"

"So, Dr. Freeman, have you ever harboured a desire to _defend _me? To _kill _me? To _avenge _me?"

"No..."

"Therefore, I have not in any way been a defining factor in your life."

Gordon was silent for a moment. "No." He turned to the Gman, voice confident. "You are a defining factor in my life."

The Gman frowned. "Please explain."

Gordon smiled. He'd figured everything out. "Who do you say _are _the defining factors in my life?"

The Gman chuckled. "You yourself already know that. The rebels, the Combine, the human race itself."

"And how did I get to this point? How did I get here, so that I could defend those I love, destroy those I hate and avenge those I was too late to save?"

Silence.

Gordon stared at the Gman, demanding an answer he was pretty sure he already knew.

The Gman smiled. "Once again, you have proven I made the right choice on Xen, twenty years ago."

Gordon relaxed, straightened up. "So you're saying I'm right?"

"Yes, Dr. Freeman. I believe you are."

Gordon smiled. Being a genius was, in the true sense of the word, kick-ass.

"However," the Gman looked closely at him. "What problem do you have with that?"

"Sorry?"

"You argued with an energy verging on ferocity," the Gman continued. "But for what reason? What is your rationale to argue with what I have done? I have told you multiple times that all I and the Fissionist faction is doing is beneficial to your cause, the cause of defending, destroying and avenging. So why do you oppose me like this?"

Silence again.

The Gman smiled at Gordon. Counter-attack.

_Damn, he's good._

"I don't have a reason," Gordon realised, looking at the Gman. "You know what? I think there's something I should say to you."

"And what is that?" The Gman asked, smiling.

Gordon extended his gloved hand with a warm smile. "Thank you."

The Gman nodded, taking the hand and shaking firmly. "Your gratitude is appreciated, Dr. Freeman."

* * *

There we have it, people. Longest chapter so far and I hope it was as enjoyable as the others have been so far.

This didn't take _too _long, mainly because all I was doing was adding things to the original chapter 10, but I think these additions make it more real, more believable and, I'm hoping, more interesting.

For anyone who doesn't get the iSnack 2.0 joke, just look it up on Google and see a perfect example of Aussie stupidity. I was on holiday, watching the AFL Grand Final (not really, I was actually talking to a good friend about Doctor Who and writing fiction. She's awesome) and I saw them announce it. I started yelling at the projection on the wall. There were only about ten people there so I got away with it.

Any Aussies out there reading, that joke is for you.


	18. Seventeen: Negligence

**-=Chapter Seventeen: Negligence=-**

_Now I know._

_Now I know the reason I am looked upon as a saviour._

_Now I know how I do the things I do._

_I defend those I love._

_I destroy those I hate._

_I avenge those I was too late to save._

This_ is the reason I am seen as a saviour. _This_ is how I do the things I do._

_That man has gotten me to where I am now._

_But is he the only reason?_

_Which came first, the question or the answer? _

_Questions require answers, but without answers there would be no questions._

_And answers spawn more questions._

_A fact about myself I continuously wish would go away. Answers spawn more questions._

_Like they have now._

_Is that man the only reason I do these things?_

_Before I met him, I was doing these things at Black Mesa. _

_Defending those I loved._

_Destroying those I hate._

_Avenging those I was too late to save._

_What was it? The factor that caused me to do all these things?_

_The point of origin._

_Was it the resonance cascade? The cataclysmic events that it caused?_

_Once I find the point of origin, the place where this all began..._

_Then my questions will cease._

_But right now, I need answers._

_And I fear that man can no longer provide me with all of them._

**North Sweden Airspace near Borealis, 5:38 PM**

The plan was a simple one.

Since the contents of the Borealis were confirmed to be dangerous while what they were exactly was beyond them, an aerial assault had been decided on. After all, three Hunter-Choppers would surely be enough to burn the ship down.

The four choppers would locate the crevasse, lower themselves into it and begin their attack on the Borealis using the onboard turrets and mines. The Mil-Mi8 helicopter would then try and hold off any soldiers trying to stop them.

However, the colonel and a company of soldiers were going to fast-rope down and head into the ship the same way the Combine had been.

Of course, this 'Combine entrance' wasn't actually established evidence. Nobody had actually been to the Borealis, but some stuff had been pieced together from eavesdropping on Combine radio channels back at Yellow Sun, and from that they had learnt the Combine had a base underground that was on the opposite side of the crevasse to the Borealis, and there was a way into the ship from their side.

"My boys and I'll be dropping onto the bridge," Lt. Colonel Baxter had explained to Gordon as they had prepared back at Yellow Sun, "while you hold off anyone who tries to stop us from your chopper!"

To be honest, Gordon didn't like it. The reconnaissance team going into the Borealis was huge, numbering about a hundred men. But from what he'd heard from both Judith and a certain radio transmission yesterday, he had a bad feeling it wouldn't end well.

_The distorted plea for help..._

"_They're ev... —own soldi... —r somethin... —ealis!"_

—_ealis._

Bor_ealis?_

Sure, there'd been so much static that the soldier's meaning was completely equivocal, but the tone and frantic speed verified desperation, and the term 'own soldiers' also came across.

_Own soldiers plus the Borealis... and the Borealis has artificial intelligence as its computer mainframe..._

Was it possible these two were connected? Was the ship's AI doing something to the people who went in?

_Dammit, why did that Shephard guy have to kill her at that _exact _moment?_

It was obviously coincidence mixed with bad luck, luck itself being a term used by people to refer to coincidences resulting in positive outcomes for themselves.

_Because no one could've orchestrated timing so perfectly that Shephard would kill Judith at that exact moment. It has to be coincidence._

_Doesn't it?_

While Gordon respected his employer, and definitely trusted him, he wasn't entirely lovable. For one thing, he didn't seem worried about sacrificing one man's life for the long term survival of the human race. Gordon had decided he probably wouldn't care as much about this if he wasn't that man's employee and if it hadn't been _him _who had killed the guy.

Sure, Gordon had no regrets. But the fact that his employer organised it and _trusted _that he would kill him didn't make him feel any better.

Secondly, he was being _extremely _vague about things. Alyx told Gordon earlier that his employer had told her to 'prepare for unforeseen consequences' again. That was twice in the past few days, the last being during his briefing at White Forest.

What did it mean? He didn't even know if it had something to do with the Borealis.

Gordon sighed. Things just kept looking worse the more he thought about it.

—

The whirr of their blades and the large shadows they cast along the snowy plains were not seen nor heard by a single living soul, for there was no one down on the ground to behold them.

Four helicopters — three Hunter-Choppers in delta formation, one Russian Mil-Mi8 in the lead — glided through the late afternoon sky, toward a giant split in the ground not far away.

"All units, this is Hip One," Alyx announced into her headset, adjusting it slightly as she flew, "I can see the crevasse up ahead, we should reach it soon."

There was a brief moment of silence, before the others responded. "We see it, Hip One."

Alyx smiled in anticipation. "Alright, let's do this."

Gordon was sitting beside her, in the co-pilot's seat, thinking about the mission. "How're you feeling?" he asked Alyx suddenly.

Alyx glanced over at him, as if to note he had broken the unusual silence. Usually she was the one to do that. "What do you mean?"

Gordon shrugged. _What _do_ I mean?_ "I don't know, are you nervous? Worried?"

"Well, yeah, a little," Alyx admitted, evidently showing that it was no big deal to her. "But that just come with it, I guess."

Gordon grunted quietly, as a sort of agreement. "I rarely get worried anymore. I just do what I have to." He looked over at Alyx, smiling softly, "If you do get to use that guy's powered armour, you'll get used to not getting nervous. Although," he added, "I don't know whether it's 'because I really am that confident or because my suit's jacked me up on morphine so often my brain subconsciously insists I'm invincible."

Alyx laughed at that, which was good. Gordon hadn't intended it to be serious. But honestly, he really _wasn't _sure if his brain had decided he was unkillable.

He took a deep breath. "Alyx, I _am _worried."

She seemed surprised at the comment. "Really? Why?"

Gordon scratched his nose, adjusting his glasses. "I've just been thinking... y'know, about his message."

Alyx knew what he meant instantly. "Oh yeah..." she muttered, sitting up in her seat, "I'd forgotten."

Neither of them spoke for a bit.

"What do you think he meant?" she asked quietly.

Gordon cleared his throat. "I'm praying that this whole mission doesn't turn into a bloodbath for _us._"

Alyx nodded, looking out the cockpit windows. "Well, we're here. Let's get this over with."

—

The four helicopters descended into the large fissure smoothly, the occupants looking around the gloomy subterranean cliffs of ice in awe.

It was incredible. There were a few crude edges jutting out of the walls, some big enough to build a house on, others so small that only a few people could stand on them.

But they weren't the crown jewel of this underground spectacle.

That would be the Borealis.

It looked and seemed a bold declaration that insanity wasn't synonymous with impossible. Because there it was, a gigantic science vessel sticking out of the side of the crevasse, half of it embedded in the ice. It was on a very slight angle, and appeared to have a hole in the hull at the bottom of the ship, connected to the other side by a long black bridge.

_So the bridge really does exist. _Gordon thought to himself, slightly relieved._ Good, that makes things easier._

"Targets confirmed!" Alyx declared, the atmosphere suddenly taking the drastic change from magical winter wonderland gazing to tense heated combat. She lowered the chopper close enough to the bridge that any fallen snow was quickly whisked off the edges into the seemingly bottomless pit below.

Gordon spotted them too, as the helicopter were only fifteen or so metres away from the Combine side. There was a large gate in the wall of the crevasse, on which eight or so soldiers were standing, bright muzzle flashes the only signal they were firing at them.

Alyx depressed the red button under her thumb, and the underside mounted 12mm machine gun immediately responded by returning fire on the enemy. Needless to say, the heavy calibre rounds were the optimal choice for suppressing enemy fire. Soldiers ducked down, others sprayed the dark grey metal of the gate they were on with blood.

Meanwhile, instead of turrets, long ropes were dangling from the underside of the Hunter-Choppers and small black figures were sliding down them. Soon, a group of soldiers had gathered on the bridge and were making their way over to the Borealis.

"This is Baxter!" the colonel announced into his headset as the last of his soldiers hit the bridge and the ropes retracted back into the helicopters. "I'll keep you all updated so listen out for me!"

"_Copy that, colonel." _

"_Tell us when you're ready for us to open fire on the bridge." _

"_And remember, haul your ass if you find anything."_

The colonel chuckled to himself as the three choppers got into position above the Borealis. "Got it."

—

The inside of the ship wasn't very interesting. It appeared to be the engine room, what with the machines and pumps lining the walls.

At least, it wasn't interesting until they saw the blood. "Shit, what happened in here?" someone whispered.

The colonel scratched his chin. "My guess," he began, looking at his men, "is it's nothing good." His eyes followed the trail up the metal stairs leading to an elevated catwalk. He pressed his mike against his mouth. "This is Baxter. We've found a big fat trail of blood in the engine room. It's all over the floor and it goes up a set of stairs leading onto a raised catwalk."

Nobody thought this was of any significance.

"_Colonel Baxter!" _Dr. Freeman's voice exploded across the radio. _"You're in the engine room of the Borealis?"_

"Affirmative, Dr. Freeman, but I don—"

"_I _do_, so shut the hell up and listen."_

Baxter was taken aback. Dr. Freeman was freaking out about something, and that was rare for him, or so he heard. "Continue."

"_You're in the engine room, and there's a metal set of stairs leading up to a raised metal catwalk."_

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"_Can I ask you something?"_

"Shoot."

"_If you went up those stairs, onto the catwalk and turned one hundred and eight degrees, would they be on your right?"_

The colonel looked up at the stairs for a moment. "Yeah, why?"

Gordon was silent.

"Dr. Freeman?"

—

Gordon just sat there in silence, head in his hand, rubbing his temples. _"Dr. Freeman?" _the colonel repeated.

_... but he was suddenly standing beside the Gman on a metal walkway that seemed to be inside the engine room of a ship... _

_...he turned his head, spotting a metal stairway leading down on his right, but he was too far from the edge of the walkway to see over the left side. _

He showed me it... at White Forest.

_As if to tease him, the Gman looked over the left side with satisfaction, smiling at something below._

Something below, on the other side...

Gordon snapped his head up, so suddenly that Alyx — who had been watching his in silence — jumped in her seat. "Colonel, get the hell out of there!" he yelled.

"_Dr. Freeman, what's goin—"_

"Just do it, dammit, you're going to _die_ if you don't!"

On the other end, the colonel pursed his lips. _"Copy that, Dr. Freeman."_

—

"Alright boys," the colonel nodded at his men, "you heard the man! Retreat!"

The soldiers quickly filed out of the engine room, their gear clattering against their body as they did. "Helix unit, this is Baxter!" the colonel yelled into his mike as he ran through the hole in the hull, back onto the jet black bridge. "Open fire, repeat, open fire!"

Instantly, the deck of the Borealis — the half not completely embedded in the ice, that is — exploded in flames as the three choppers flew overhead, streams of explosives having hit the deck and detonated. Glass shattered on the bridge and crates of cargo caught fire as the choppers swung around and returned to the fray.

"_Attack run complete,"_ Helix One confirmed. "_Returning to primary vector."_

"_Co-ordinates locked in,"_ Helix Three agreed.

The trio of aircraft flew over the battle again, this time decelerating as they passed over the bridge.

"_Colonel Baxter, we're preparing to pick you up."_ One of the pilots announced over the radio as the three choppers descending and the ropes once again fell from their undersides.

"Roger." Baxter replied, coming to a stop about halfway across the bridge, looking up at the helicopters as he climbed onto one of the ropes.

—

Somewhere inside the Borealis, a single person heard the apocalyptic sound of explosions and glass shattering coming from above. In an instant, a bony finger pressed a single button on the computer before it and a collection of green dots suddenly appeared in the engine room.

And then, that individual passed out, falling on their back limply.

But their mouth wasn't one to agree with the accepted idea of being unconscious. A voice, raspy like that of a dying woman overlayed with the emotionless and monotonous speech of a robot whispered from the poor soul's pale lips. "Kill them..."

_Kill them. Kill them. Kill them._

The green dots scrambled.

—

Lt. Colonel Baxter was just about to climb into the cabin of one of the Resistance Hunter-Choppers when garbled screams came through his radio. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as the demonic noise blared in his ears.

He opened his eyes and was met by blurry vision. After blinking a few times his eyesight was back to normal, but what he saw was far beyond that.

He saw the Borealis, burning brightly against the weak light of an Arctic late afternoon. Around him, soldiers were hanging onto ropes as they dangled above the bridge, and there were already a few people inside his helicopter.

But what he saw streaming out of the Borealis made his eyes widen in disbelief.

Soldiers.

Combine soldiers.

Some of them had guns and they were shooting at his men as they hurried into the choppers. Others simply ran hard, like hungry animals, jumping for ropes hanging down low enough. Psychotic growls sang in his ears as he watched. Quickly, he unslung his pulse rifle and aimed it at the bridge, opening fire through the underside hatch. A few others followed suit, firing their smallarms at the desperately scrambling Combine soldiers that were practically throwing themselves up the ropes.

The rebels fought hard, shooting down the menacing creatures before they even got close to them. The lifeless bodies then either fell off the ropes onto the bridge, or into the fissure itself where they would be lost for eternity.

Baxter's magazine emptied as the last of the soldiers climbed into the chopper and he simply threw the gun into a corner, getting to his feet and running into the cockpit. He grabbed the pilot on the shoulder, looking out the cockpit windows at the Russian helicopter on the other side of the crevasse. "We've got everyone," he reported, "let's get the hell out of here."

—

Bullets smacked into the nose of the Mi8, Alyx having turned it around when the hellish screams had begun. She herself was firing back at them with the chopper's machinegun, the thick bullets tearing the soldiers to shit.

Gordon was listening to the radio, having taken the headset from Alyx when everything went down. But he wasn't really listening to it, so it was merely ambience for his thoughts. He was trying to think but his head hurt.

_Combine soldiers in the Borealis..._

_I was right._

_They really did say 'own soldiers' and 'Borealis'._

Gordon's mind subconsciously listened to the radio. The three other helicopters were reporting their retreat, so Gordon started listening closer. _"Hip One, this is Helix Two, we're returning to base."_

"Copy that, Helix Two." Gordon replied almost mechanically, his thoughts still with him. "We'll stay behind for a little, try and stop these bastards."

Gordon watched the stolen helicopters rise, the large science vessel Borealis burning in the background. Alyx was growling loudly beside him, but Gordon wasn't sure if the cause was determination or anger. Right now he didn't care, his brain was starting to hurt and he wasn't thinking clearly again.

_What the hell is going on? Are these the unforeseen consequences of attacking the Borealis?_

But how was that possible? These were soldiers, not robots. And Gordon couldn't see any type of cybernetics on them...

"Alyx, go closer." Gordon requested quietly a few moments after Alyx stopped shooting, rubbing his forehead tensely.

"Gordon, why would I do that?"

"Just do it!" Gordon yelled suddenly, running his hand through his hair.

Alyx obliged, somewhat startled at Gordon's outburst. She nudged the helicopter toward the other side of the bridge, closer to the pile of bullet-riddled bodies.

The helicopter stopped, its rotary blades whirring loudly above the bloody stack of battered cadavers. Gordon studied the bodies for a few moments, before his eyes widened in shock. "Oh, shit."

Alyx had just spotted it too. And it was _not _good.

There were large black metal implants in the backs of their heads, crudely impaled into the corpses' skulls.

"Alyx, get us out of here." Gordon ordered as he pressed the headset against his mouth. "Helix units, this is Hip One. We have confirmation of artificial intelligence, repeat, the enemy is artificial intelligence. There are crude implants sticking out of the soldiers heads."

The helicopter flew from the crevasse, a pillar of smoke rising behind it. In the distance, Gordon could see the three Hunter-Choppers flying back to Yellow Sun. _"Dr. Freeman, this is Colonel Baxter. Is the threat eliminated?"_

"We killed all the soldiers, Colonel Baxter." Gordon replied. "But we don't know how many are still on the Borealis."

A pause. _"The flames should get 'em. And if they don't, then the worst they can do now is tear that Combine base to shreds."_

"Colonel, we don't know anything about these implants. There's a possibility they are mobile even without a host."

"_How is that possible?"_

"Think about it," Gordon insisted, "that ship is deserted! No one is onboard it! Are you telling me the ship's AI turned itself into a human and did the surgery itself?"

As if on cue, a hideous whisper came across the radio. _"Still alive... still alive..."_

_

* * *

_People who read the original will notice a major difference between this and the original Borealis attack run. For one thing, Gordon and Alyx never actually saw the implants, they just heard about it from the Hunter-Choppers. Secondly, Colonel Baxter just disappeared after his appearance in the previous chapter. I decided to make him the leader of the recon team that went into the ship itself (another difference).

I hope this chapter was up to scratch. I don't know, this chapter just seems to feel a little weird to me. Maybe that's because everything comes together here. This is basically the turning point in the story. But believe me, unlike last time, the quality will not gradually get worse from here on out. Well, last time the only good chapters past this point were Unrestricted Assistance and Deduction. The rest were rubbish, at least to me.

A small list of changes:

-Sleet Rock won't be nearly as retarded as the first version

-Chapter 14 is now Chapter 2, as most of you know already

-Some other stuff that's awesome

And that's about it. Past Sleet rock nobody knows. Except for me. And it's good and twisted, like Twisties. Yum yum. Yes, it's another obscure Australian food, like Cheezels. I can't believe the United States doesn't have Cheezels. I feel bad for you guys. In fact, I feel bad for everyone without Cheezels and Twisties.

...anyway, that's all I've got to say. Laters.


	19. Eighteen: Interposition

**-=Chapter Eighteen: Interposition=-**

**Borealis, 5:24 PM**

The power supply fought the battle against the flames courageously and with great determination, but eventually the inevitable occurred as it always will — for that is its definition.

Before victory could take hold, however, one would have had an opportunity to gaze upon a single LCD monitor in a darkened room, the single door left ajar. And on that flickering monitor, whose fight for survival was just as desperate as the rest of the power on the burning ship, was a brief list of text.

_Completion and Deployment: Incomplete – target quantity inaccessible — yet successful to a degree. _

_Transmission: Successful. Signal broadcast across entire known universe. _

_Current Objectives:_

— _escape death_

— _steal aviation machine_

— _bake cake_

— _return to North America, specifically Cleveland, Ohio_

— _do what we must because we can_

— _for the good of all of us_

Once the power went out, the auxiliary power would kick in if necessary. However, the only thing the auxiliary power had been ordered to power was the ship's AI, which would decide on what else needed to be powered.

If one were to watch the Borealis for half an hour after the Resistance had retreated, they would see someone running across the weakly burning deck of the ship, before sliding down the port side of the hull onto the bridge below — or more specifically, the _corpses_ on the bridge below — and running over to the blood stained gate on the other side.

If one were to continue watching for an hour more, they would see the flames slowly go out, leaving a smoking, charred shell of a ship.

Of course, no one was watching, and hence no one witnessed this.

**8:28 PM, White Forest Hangar**

No one had opposed Gordon's argument after the eerie murmur had come across the radio. Almost straight after it happened, White Forest was contacted and informed of the circumstances. Dr. Magnusson insisted on enforcing his usual authoritarian control over everything and Gordon had requested — quite firmly — that he wait until they returned to White Forest to discuss the matters at hand properly. Reluctantly, Magnusson had conformed to the situation.

Gordon couldn't believe how much warmer everything became the further south they went. Having been fighting in the cold for nearly two days he embraced the warmth of the Romanian countryside like an old friend.

When they had finally touched down, Gordon was the first person to leave the helicopter. He wasn't sure whether his chipper attitude was because he really was glad to be back in familiar territory, or because his brain was trying not to think to hard about the utter negligence he showed toward the constant warnings he got.

He worried about them, sure, but he didn't really do anything to try and prevent them. He just sort of decided to let 'whatever happens' happen.

Not the best choice he'd made in his life.

Alyx and Barney got off at the same time, after a few rebels had already made their way out. "Phew," Alyx whistled, looking around the hangar, waving her hand like a fan, "wow, doesn't take long to get accustomed to the cold, does it?"

Gordon could say he agreed. He didn't get used to the cold at all. Barney voiced his opinions with a snort. "Heh, I'm still cold."

Allowing himself a short chuckle, Gordon headed for the stairs with his friends. Nobody needed to tell them Dr. Magnusson wanted them to go to his office right away, and thankfully nobody did.

—

"Come on, you have to agree it'd be easy to get lost in here." Gordon insisted, smiling. The group was in another one of those half green half white painted hallways with thick blast doors and a single frosted glass pane looking through to the adjacent room on the right.

Alyx rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her. "Really, it's not that hard to find your way around..."

"Alyx, I have to agree with Gordon here," Barney admitted, his own mouth starting to turn up at the corners. It wasn't a fierce argument at all, and it was all in good nature.

"You were only here for like five hours!" Alyx retorted.

"True that, but I can see how someone like Gordon would get lost in a place like this." Barney chortled.

Gordon threw Barney a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Barney shook his head, grinning widely. "You got lost all the time back at Black Mesa, and there were signs on every inch of wall!"

Gordon tried to hide his dismay at Barney's revelation of this fact. It was true, he _had _gotten lost quite a bit at Black Mesa and it was usually with a quietly laughing security guard behind him.

The same one standing by him now.

He quickly changed the subject. "Uh, is anyone else still cold?"

Gordon received a chorus of no in response.

"Actually, Gordon, are you still cold?" Alyx suddenly asked him.

"What?" Gordon was surprised at the question. He hadn't asked it expecting a real answer. After all, it hadn't even been a serious question. "No, I'm not. I'm fine."

"OK," Alyx nodded. "I just think that after this you should go to the medical wing for a physical."

Gordon frowned slightly at this, but he didn't get any words out. "Gordon, seriously," Alyx continued, having apparently seen his expression, "you've taken how many bullets this past month?"

Gordon averted his gaze, trying to look interested in a chip in the thinly painted plaster. "Uh..."

"Lots, then." Barney decided.

"Exactly." Alyx agreed, nodding at Barney before returning her attention to Gordon. "Gordon, I'm worried about you."

"Hey, I've got my suit..."

"Your suit doesn't keep all the bullets out," Alyx retorted, "and some of it isn't even metal plating, it's thick material. If you have been shot, the suit should keep you from feeling it with the morphine administration but it won't perform surgery on you."

Gordon frowned. "Hang on, how do you know so much abo—"

Alyx's tone lightened a little. "I fixed it before you even got here. Had to take out so many bullets."

_My HEV suit..._

"Alyx, where did you get it?"

"What do you mean?"

"My suit, Alyx. You know now that I was in stasis, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"_But _I was wearing my suit then. When I woke up on a train in City 17, I was wearing civilian uniform. How did you get my suit?"

Alyx looked away for a bit. "Dr. Kleiner found it outside his lab..." she explained, "at first I think he was worried the Combine had sent it, but when he saw the newspaper stuck to it with a spray-painted lambda on it, he quickly took it inside. That was about three weeks before you got here."

Gordon paused. "So you don't know where it came from?"

"No, sorry."

Somewhere in the back of Gordon's head, his mind was wiping its forehead off because the conversation had shifted from Gordon seeing a doctor. Of course, Alyx had a point...

"Alyx, don't worry, I'll go to the medical wing."

"Need someone to lead you there?" Barney chuckled.

"Shut up, Barney."

—

Gordon, Alyx and Barney had been expecting Magnusson to start spouting questions the moment they walked into him office, or for Kleiner to greet them in his awkward grandfatherly way.

What they hadn't expected to see was Magnusson sitting at his desk, Dr. Kleiner standing next to him and a man in a blue suit sitting comfortably on an old faded red couch.

"Ah, Dr. Freeman," Magnusson stood as they entered, nodding formally, "Ms. Vance, Mr. Calhoun. I believe," he gestured to the man on the couch, "that you are already acquainted with the Gman."

"The who?" Barney asked, frowning at Magnusson and then at the suited man.

Gordon cocked his head at the smiling suit. "Hold on... _Gman?_"

The Gman chuckled, smiling at Gordon. "Yes, Gman. I apologise, I only just discovered I never gave you my title."

"Title?"

"When a Member of the Fissionist faction is operating in the field, they are referred to as Gmen. Including the women, mind you."

"OK," Gordon replied, stretching the first syllable, "how about a _name_?"

The Gman shrugged. "If you would like to know my given name, it is Gregory."

Gordon nodded, "yeah, I think I'll stick with Gman."  
"I was trusting you would say that."

"Returning to the matter at hand," Dr. Magnusson continued. "You may be seated." He added with a short gesture.

The group sat themselves on the couch without any objections. "Thank you. Now, I believe the Gman has something to say to everyone."

_Really? _Gordon thought to himself, more than a little surprised. He had expected something along the lines of a Magnusson Monologue in between questioning verging on interrogation. The others seemed surprised as well, and they showed it.

The Gman took his place beside Dr. Magnusson and cleared his throat. "For the people gathered here who actually know who I am, specifically Dr. Freeman," he began, glancing at the bespectacled scientist, "I would wager that you are confused regarding my sudden appearance to everyone while not stopping time."

He was met with an affirmative reply from Dr. Freeman.

"As I expected, you are confused." The Gman smiled, as if impressed by the thought. "Allow me to elucidate everything as thoroughly as I possibly can." He inhaled loudly, as was his custom when talking. "Answering the first question, which in this case would be: why didn't you stop time? However, a simpler variation of this question would be: why did you _have_ to stop time previously?"

Nobody said anything, thus the Gman continued. "Despite the fact that the members of the Fissionist faction verge on omnipotent and possess immortality, we are still... _surmountable_."

"Ah," Gordon nodded, "so you won't die of old age, but if someone cuts your head off you're done?"

The Gman chuckled at the comment, finding humour in it that had eluded Gordon, "it would take more than decapitation to finish me off, Dr. Freeman."

Having noticed that the room was awkwardly silent, the Gman cleared his throat again. "But we digress," he continued, adjusting his tie. "The Combine pose a threat to our faction — nay, they pose _the only _threat to us. Their humanoid military numbers almost _four and a half hundred billion_ and have stretched their ravenous empire across the stars. If they were to find out that I was on Earth — a Fissionist — they would send an army numbering more than the _pre-Combine human population_ just to kill me."

"So..." Alyx interrupted, raising a hand, "you didn't want them to know you were helping us?"

The Gman nodded. "If the Combine had known such a thing, then there would have been no chance for the human race. Most likely the Combine would have killed everyone in case I had changed clothing. They would have committed global genocide."

"But now that the super-portal is gone..." Gordon stopped, frowning. _Wait, that doesn't make sense._ "Hang on, why didn't you reveal yourself right after the super-portal had been closed?"

The Gman smiled. "Think about earlier today."

Gordon paused. "The Borealis?" he answered not long after.

"Exactly." The Gman smiled. "Very good, Dr. Freeman, your intellect continues to astound me."

"But why?" Gordon inquired, reminding everyone that they weren't talking about him.

The Gman chuckled, something he did quite often as Gordon had notcied. "As I said, you are smart, Dr. Freeman. Ask yourself. Think what was on the Borealis."

Gordon scratched his goateed chin. "Well, the army of artificial intelligence, but..."

"Think about the thing that posed a threat to me."

Gordon frowned. His head was starting to hurt again. Dammit, the cold _still_ had a grasp on him even though he was back home. "OK, so the Combine posed a threat to you. Then the super-portal closed, but something else still posed a threat to you..." he tried to think clearly, but his head was hurting. "But you said that the Combine is the only thing that poses a threat to... Look, I don't know, maybe the Borealis had some way of warnin—" Gordon stopped. _Wait a second..._

"Wait a second..."

The Gman smiled. "Well done, Dr. Freeman."

"So the army of artificial intelligence could warn the Combine of your presence?"

The Gman sighed. "Ms. Vance," he turned to Alyx, "what was the last thing I told you before I departed at our previous engagement?"

"Uh..." Alyx brushed some hair out of her eyes. "You told me to prepare for unforeseen consequences."

"But what did I say about it?"

Alyx frowned. "Um... you said it was inevitable?"

"Correct."

"So... wait, what?" Alyx asked, eyebrows raised.

"Hang on," Barney interrupted. Gordon and Alyx looked at him, not having expecting him to say anything. Of course, Magnusson also looked at him for the same reason, "Yes, Mr. Calhoun?" the Gman gestured for him to speak.

"If it was inevitable, then that means you couldn't stop it."

_Well done, Captain Obvious, _Gordon thought to himself.

"Well... actually, inevitable is a rather strong word." The Gman admitted, "possibly the wrong choice of wording on my behalf."

"So it _wasn't_ inevitable?" Alyx inquired. "So it _could_ be avoided."

"Yes, but avoiding it would've been worse for mankind."

"But wait, if avoiding it was worse for us, you've just contradicted yourself." Gordon suddenly realised.

"How so?" the Gman inquired.

"OK, so the AI could warn the Combine of your presence, right?"

"I never said that." The Gman interrupted.

Gordon hadn't expected that. "But you..."

"Think, Dr. Freeman." The Gman tapped his skull. "If the AI wasn't going to warn the Combine about _me, _then what else would it warn them about?"

Gordon rubbed his temples. Damn headache. "Um... maybe that... that there was... there was a new threat on Earth, maybe? Uh, one able to destroy the Combine?"

"Yes."

Gordon's eyebrows rose in surprise. _Wow, hadn't expected to be right about that. _"So you're saying that you _needed _the AI to warn the Combine?"

"Exactly, Dr. Freeman."

Silence.

"Wait, I'm confused." Barney admitted, feeling somewhat left out.

"Alright, I'll explain." The Gman decided. "Since the Combine had been cut off from Earth, they still believed there was a way to hold Earth through the force they already have down here. However, the AI on the Borealis would've told the Advisors back on their homeworld that the Combine force on Earth was finished."

"How?" Gordon asked.

"The AI broadcast a signal across the universe when the Aperture Science GLaDOS was destroyed," the Gman explained. "The ship's AI was the only thing hiding the AI army from the universe, there was possibly something on the ship that garbled radio transmissions and therefore cloaked the signal."

_That would explain the distorted message we got from the frantic soldier earlier this afternoon, _Gordon realised. _If he'd been inside the Borealis at the time, his message would've been scrambled the way we heard it._

"Now, the signal would've been sent all across the universe, including to the Combine homeworld. Thus the Advisors would realise that both the Combine force on Earth _and_ the human race were doomed and therefore they would label Earth as uninhabitable."

"Wait," Barney interrupted, somewhat confused by the last statement, "so the human race is doomed?"

The Gman smiled. "No."

"Oh!" Gordon exclaimed suddenly. "Now I get it!" He shook his head with a smile. "That's why you had to hide. So that the Combine couldn't possibly find out about you _until _they had already labelled Earth as finished, and therefore they wouldn't even try to find out."

"And then I could do whatever I pleased and the Combine force on Earth couldn't do anything because they had been deserted by the Advisors back home."

"That," Gordon smiled, despite his throbbing head, "is ingenious."

"And a good thing, too," The Gman added with an equally impressed smile. "We have been working it out for twenty years, and now that it is complete I am now able to act as a... mercenary for your cause."

Gordon, Alyx and Barney couldn't hide their amazement any long. "What?"

"I am now undetectable," the Gman explained casually. "The Combine force on Earth is the furthest knowledge of my existence will go."

"Wait a second." Gordon interrupted, standing up. "Do the Vortigaunts know about this?"

The Gman smiled, shaking his head. He knew what Gordon was talking about. After all, he himself had told him. "The Vortigaunts are good creatures. They have thrown off their shackles and taken up the fight, as it were. Of course, they may take some time getting used to me, as they knew of me only by the commonly referred to term of 'sinister intergalactic bureaucrat'."

Nobody said anything, as they expected him to justify that statement. "However, they have no evidence as to this. Their opinions are biased by the subliminal messages their former overlords the Shu'ulathoi gave them during their slavery concerning the Fissionist faction."

"Hold on, doesn't that mean the Combine Advisors knew you were on Earth?" Gordon asked.

"Not at all, Dr. Freeman. The term was not used specifically in relation to myself, but all Fissionists Members."

Gordon shrugged, sitting back down.

"So," Dr. Magnusson cleared his throat. "You are willing to fight for the Resistance?"

The Gman glanced over at him. "Dr. Magnusson, I have effectively been fighting for the Resistance before it was even conceived as a possibility."

"And so you'll be fighting for us."

The Gman turned fully to face Magnusson. "Dr. Magnusson, know this: I will do whatever I please to fulfil my objectives. However I will not take orders from you or anyone else and I myself will not give you orders."

"But you will fight alongside us, should you decide to?"

The Gman smiled. "I'm glad to see you understand my conditions."

Magnusson nodded sharply, extending a hand. "Well then, welcome to the Resistance, Gman."

The Gman took his hand. "Wise choice, Dr. Magnusson."

Gordon rubbed his temples. "Well," he stood up with a quiet grunt, "if everything's over, I have somewhere to b—"

Dr. Magnusson cleared his throat. "Dr. Freeman, I think you will find that somewhere is here. We have matters to discuss concerni—"

"Dr. Magnusson, I think you should let Dr. Freeman do what he needs to." The Gman interrupted.

Magnusson frowned. "You clearly stated not a moment ago that you wouldn't give us orders."

_Well, aren't things starting off wonderfully? _Gordon thought wryly.

"May I remind you Dr. Freeman is my employee?" the Gman retorted.

Dr. Magnusson stood in silence for a moment, pursing his lips. "Very well, Freeman, go ahead."

Gordon gave a farewell nod to the scientists, the friends and the nigh-omnipotent suited divinity, before leaving the office. After he'd shut the thick blast door and headed off, he wondered how Magnusson had known he was the Gman's employee. Then again, the Gman had probably already explained everything to them beforehand.

—

Someone rapped on the frosted glass window. A young, bespectacled blonde-haired woman looked up from her desk. "Come in," she called out from her desk.

Dr. Freeman opened the door. "Is this the medical room?"

"Yes, yes it is." The woman stood up, smiling at the man. "I'm Dr. Simone Taylor." She laughed softly. "As for you, no introduction is needed, Dr. Freeman."

Gordon sighed. "Am I really that famous?"

"Oh, definitely," Dr. Taylor nodded, answering instantly. No doubt in her mind, then, Gordon was famous. "So, what did you need?"

"Uh, actually, I came here for a check-up." Gordon admitted, closing the door behind him. "Although there are a few things I should warn you about first."

Dr. Taylor smiled, as if to brush away the thought. "I've seen some bad stuff, Dr. Freeman. The Combine hasn't exactly been nice to the human race."

Gordon's lips broke into a tight smile. "Well, I've probably fractured my jaw, twisted my right arm and taken about eight bullets, not including buckshot. That's just in one day and I've been fighting for about three weeks."

Dr. Taylor blinked. "Uh..." she readjusted her glasses. "Do you feel anything?"

"Yes, actually," Gordon acknowledged, his expression showing he wasn't being solemn at all. "I've got one hell of a headache."

Dr. Taylor brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Does your suit have morphine administration?"

"Oh, yes. I'd probably be dead from trauma if it didn't."

"Is it safe to remove your suit?" Dr. Taylor continued, ignoring Gordon's humorous outlook on something he should be sweating bullets over.

"I don't know," Gordon admitted, his tone taking a more serious edge to it. "I might die. No joke."

"OK, I think I can do a physical examination with the suit still on, see whether or not your body will cease to function when the suit is disconnected."

"Alright then."

—

Someone knocked on the window of the medical room. Gordon strained his neck to look up from his place on the cloth covered metal bench he was lying on. "Come in!" Dr. Taylor called from her office as she exited it with a few sheets of paper.

Alyx came inside. "Ah, hi Simone." She nodded at the doctor.

"Alyx," Dr. Taylor smiled. "Do you need a check up too, or did you just come to see Dr. Freeman?"

"Actually, it's a bit of both." She looked over at Gordon. "How is he?"

"Well," Dr. Taylor cleared her throat nervously.

"This should be good." Gordon winked at Alyx, who didn't seem to share his seemingly enthusiastic humour.

"Dr. Freeman, according to the scanners, your left arm is broken in two different spots and your right arm _is_ twisted, your jaw has a small fracture in it, four of your ribs are cracked, you have had exactly _one hundred and eight_ major and minor lacerations, the largest being a scar that appears to have been caused by three clawed fingers, crossing from one side of your ribcage to the other. Some of your leg muscles are stretched and your body has precisely..." she paused, swallowing, "thirty three lead bullets and the equivalent of three 12 gauge shotgun shells worth of buckshot in various places from your shoulders to your shins."

Silence. Dr. Taylor lowered her sheet. "Dr. Freeman, according to average statistics, you have been killed exactly eleven times."

More silence ensued. Gordon whistled, keeping with his tradition of frivolity and jesting when discussing his injuries. "That's not very good, is it?"

Someone sniffed. Gordon looked over at Alyx. She was wiping tears from her eyes. "Hey, Alyx," Gordon began, his tone changing instantly, the attention having shifted from him, "it's OK, I'm fine..."

He trailed off. _I'm fine? I've got enough metal inside me to make a small cooking pot!_

"Alyx, I'm going to be alright," Gordon looked at Dr. Taylor, taking control in the hopes of comforting Alyx. "Is anything infected?"

"Surprisingly, all of your wounds have healed into clean scars and the bullets have not become septic." She looked back at her sheet. "Your suit seems to have made sure of that. If surgery is possible, it shouldn't actually be too difficult."

Alyx looked over at Dr. Taylor. "What do you mean, 'if'?"

"W-well," Dr. Taylor scratched her cheek nervously. "I'm still unsure as to whether or not the suit is all that's keeping him alive. If we remove it, his nervous system might fail due to the shock of feeling the pain of all his wounds in an instant."

Someone knocked on the door. Dr. Taylor turned around. "Yes? Come in."

The door opened, and the Gman calmly entered the tense medical room. "Hmm..." he droned, closing the door. "The tension in here could be cut with a knife, so to speak." He looked at Gordon lying on the metal bench. "I assume you have discovered the extent of his injuries?"

"Uh... y-yes." Dr. Taylor stammered. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The Gman smiled. "Please, call me the Gman."

He looked back at Gordon. "Dr. Freeman, I have one thing to say to you. And that is that I can help you."

"Sorry?"

"As an employee, you have acted efficiently and successfully," the Gman continued, "and as such, I feel a need to repay you. Consider this your bonus." He chuckled. "Despite the fact you don't even get wages."

He looked at Dr. Taylor. "Doctor, I will now allow you to conduct the surgery on Dr. Freeman."

"B-but his nervous system—"

"Dr. Taylor," Gordon interrupted, smiling confidently. "I trust this man."

"S-so do I," Alyx sniffed, smiling weakly in contrast to Gordon.

Dr. Taylor looked at Gordon, then at Alyx, and finally the 'Gman'. "OK," she decided eventually. "I'll get everything ready."

—

Gordon blinked as the Heads Up Display flickered on, a virtual image displayed on his retinas. His suit was fully charged and he was feeling something he hadn't felt for a long time.

Alive.

_I had thirty three bullets in me, _Gordon remembered. _And three shells worth of shot._

_One hundred and eight lacerations._

_One hundred and forty one scars._

The surgery had been successful. All the slugs had been removed from his body, including the tiny pellets of shot. All the fractures were fixed up, thanks to some sort of stolen Combine medicinal compound.

_I never thought I'd been saying this, _Gordon thought to himself, _but thank God for the Combine._

Something slipped between his gloved fingers. Gordon looked down, blinking once more as the HUD adjusted. It was another hand, clad in a fingerless black glove. Gordon looked up to see a smiling Alyx. "Gordon..." she began, before Gordon put his repaired arm around her.

"I know." He whispered. "And don't worry, I was never intending on leaving you."

So the two just stood there in silence, and somewhere in the background a suited man smiled tightly as he sat in an old cushioned chair next to the doctor's office, watching them.

_Her safety is critical to Dr. Freeman's well being, and vice versa... _he thought to himself, _I cannot allow either of them to come to harm, less the human race suffer greatly for it.

* * *

_

Originally this chapter was simply plot driving material. Now... yeah, it still is. But it's better, and it adds things that are critical to the story. It also didn't take long to do because I already had the foundations, I just needed to fix everything up._  
_


	20. Nineteen: Unrestricted Assistance

**-=Chapter Nineteen: Unrestricted Assistance=-**

**White Forest, 7:21 AM**

"We don't know the details about this new threat," Dr. Kleiner explained to the multitude of rebels sitting in the White Forest briefing room, "but what we have determined through eyewitness accounts is that this enemy is a sort of artificial intelligence parasite that connects itself to the back of a host's head and crudely usurps their nervous system, therefore taking complete control of their body."

Quiet mumblings from a few of the people gathered. _First the Combine, and now this?_

Dr. Kleiner straightened up, adjusting his glasses. "We have no information on what a host would be experiencing while they are under the control of these robots, or whether they have to be killed before they can be taken over, but we assume that everything concerning a subject's personality will be removed so as to not conflict with the AI."

Louder murmurs issued from the crowd. _Enslavement on a higher level than even the Combine could possibly achieve._

"At the moment, we believe they have control over the northern parts of Sweden, near the remains of the Borealis. We don't anything about how this enemy operates, if they will try to set up a governing body or will just try and destroy everything in their path."

Dr. Kleiner looked around the large room, at the thousands of faces staring at him. Some people had their game faces on, others were clearly scared of this enemy. "After brief discussion, we have opted to title the enemy simply as the Aperture Laboratories Artificial Intelligence, abbreviated as the acronym ALAI."

He pronounced it 'alay', instead of as separate letters. Dr. Kleiner cleared his throat, as if to redirect everyone's thoughts back to him. "A meeting will be called between the leaders of the Resistance to discuss our course of action."

—

"Ah, Gman," Dr. Magnusson looked up from his wooden desk and nodded at the suited individual who had just entered his office, lowering the sheet of paper he was reading. "What do you need?"

"I came here, Dr. Magnusson," the Gman began, looking around the neatly organised office, "because I am going back to Sweden."

Dr. Magnusson frowned. "By yourself?"

"I will be reconnoitring the area around the Borealis," the Gman continued as he turned to leave, "to find out anything I can about the ALAI."

"Hold on a minute," Dr. Magnusson interrupted his departure, rising from his seat quickly.

"Yes?" The Gman looked back over his shoulder.

"Don't you know anything about them? I mean, if the Fissionist faction incorporated them into their plan..."

"Unfortunately," the Gman calmly turned his head back to the door in such a way he seemed to be disregarding Dr. Magnusson completely, "we are ignorant of the details."

And with that, he left the office. Dr. Magnusson exhaled loudly when the door had closed behind him, shaking his head as he sat back down. He lifted the sheet of paper he'd received from Dr. Taylor to continue reading it. It was Dr. Freeman's physical examination report. His eyes scanned the statistics, and he whistled. "Thirty three bullets?" he whispered aloud, shaking his head. "How on earth did he survive?"

He looked down at the doctor's handwritten notes. _Man entered. Called himself the Gman. When this man gave the all clear to me, Dr. Freeman was willing to proceed with the surgery, as was Ms. Vance. Will ask Dr. Magnusson who this man is._

Dr. Magnusson chuckled, looking at the scribbled question at the bottom of the document: **Do you know a man who calls himself the Gman? He came to Dr. Freeman's surgery and seemed to be in control of things.**

Dr. Magnusson plucked a pen from a nearby pen holder, pressing the spring-loaded button down and calmly wrote his answer.

**Simply put, he is someone whose authority is not to be challenged.**

—

"So you broke the test tube," Alyx eyed Barney suspiciously, "_after _Gordon had already left through the airvents?"

"Exactly," Barney nodded, scratching his head as he leaned back in his seat. The group had convened in the lounge, and were now talking casually among themselves about the past. "I wasn't gonna leave it, until it started melting the floor. Then I split."

_You know, looking back on it, _Gordon thought to himself, _Black Mesa wasn't _too _bad._

"Pardon me," someone interjected politely from the door of the lounge, standing in the doorway. The three looked up at the man standing in the door. It was the Gman.

"Hey," Gordon nodded at him, his tone still as blithely nonchalant as it had been back in the medical wing, "what's up?"

"I am departing for North Sweden." The Gman told them, his tone formal and direct in complete contrast to Gordon's own.

More than one of the group frowned at the statement, but only Barney actually said something. "Again?" he demanded. "What for?"

"I will be doing reconnaissance for the Resistance," the Gman explained, his tone unchanged.

"Excuse me,"

Not having expected to be interrupted, the Gman looked behind him with in surprise, before spotting the two rebels in the doorway. He stepped out of the doorway into the lounge, allowing the people through. "My apologies."

"So you're going by yourself?" Alyx asked, picking up the discussion once more.

The Gman nodded. "I find that I... work better alone."

"So, when are you coming back?" Gordon added, eyeing him in a curious, even perhaps _concerned_ manner.

The Gman noticed this and glanced at the ceiling, through a small glass sunroof and out at the blue sky. He smiled at the sight. _How beautiful this planet is, regardless of what evils the Combine commit against it_. "I should be back later today." He answered, looking back at the group with a smile.

Gordon nodded in reply. "Well, see ya."

The Gman gave a casual wave of his hand, the least formal thing he had done the whole time he'd been standing there. "Likewise."

And with that, he calmly walked from the room, leaving near silence in his wake, that pretence broken by the quiet sobbing of one of the rebels who had come in just before. Barney looked at Gordon and Alyx, being the one to start talking again first. "OK, you guys never _really_ told me what the deal with that guy is."

Alyx laughed, leaning back in her chair with a wide smile. "Let's just say he's the human race's guardian angel."

"Elaborate."

Gordon chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. _Elaborate on the Gman. Oh, where do I begin?_ "If you say so."

**Norbotten, North Sweden, 8:41 AM**

The Hunter-Chopper sailed across the mid-morning sky of Norrbotten. Northern Sweden hadn't been the most densely populated place in the world even before the capitulation of the human governing bodies, but now it was practically empty, save for the odd ghost town here and there.

Oh, and apart from a smoking science vessel belonging to a liquidated corporation led by an eccentric businessman and an army of parasitical robots.

_Why was I not informed about this threat until recently? _The Gman asked himself as the helicopter glided through the heavens. He had only been told about the ALAI — indirectly, he might add — when the Fissionists contacted him to wake Gordon up about a month ago. They had told him to look inside the Borealis for something.

_I had been expecting something else, _The Gman admitted internally, _something else to scare the Combine away from Earth forever. A super-weapon, perhaps. Something to aid the human race, at least. Not something else with the potential to wipe them out._

The Gman had discussed the plan with the Fissionists multiple times during Gordon's years in stasis, but he had never been told about the ALAI. Why?

_Did the other members not want me to know about them? _The Gman wondered. _Did they think I would disagree with them, or perhaps go so far as to _refuse_ their proposal?_

He clearly remembered his message to the other members concerning the ALAI:

_The conundrum concerning the Borealis has had me confused for a short while. I was ignorant of its contents until very recently, and when I discovered what they were, I was quite honestly... baffled._

_I asked myself that if this was the secret, then how did it get there?_

_As we are all aware, the Borealis was indeed warped from the Aperture Science Dry Dock while undergoing some cheap maintenance._

_However, since the discovery of the ship's contents, I have been confused as to what did the warping._

_Were the items onboard responsible?_

_Or was it something else, from somewhere else?_

_I will be investigating this matter closer._

Was the ALAI responsible for the teleportation of the Borealis?

Or was it something else?

_And that's what I'm here for, _the Gman reminded himself. Oh, he was doing reconnaissance, certainly. But it wasn't solely to aid the Resistance.

He wanted answers of his own, and since the other Members seemed content with keeping him in the dark, he was going to make sure he rectified that personally.

The Hunter-Chopper was unperturbed by the Gman's thoughts, for it didn't even know he was there. Thus, it continued to roar as it streaked across the sky, above the desolate snowy surface of North Sweden.

—

_Crunch._

Footfalls on snow resulting in crunches. That was something the Gman had learnt a long time ago.

_Sleet Rock._

That battle hadn't been kind to him, nor any of the Fissionist troops stationed at the base. If Dr. Freeman reminisced on his past at Black Mesa during the resonance cascade — as the Gman was sure he did — then there was another similarity between the two.

Dr. Gordon Freeman's survival of the Black Mesa Incident.

Fissionist Faction Member Eight's survival of the Assault on Sleet Rock.

Calmly, he unbuttoned his suit and lifted his white shirt up, gazing at the large scar on his abdomen. It crossed over diagonally from the lower right-side of his ribs down to the left side of his waist.

He sighed, thinking about the past. Back then, the Combine hadn't been such a horror. Such a malignant cancer, resistant to all treatment.

The Gman smiled as he lowered his shirt and fixed his suit as it blew in the wind.

_But now a cure has been found._

_Crunch._

He didn't know how far he was from the Borealis, but he hadn't landed close enough to alert anyone and the chopper was behind a snow dune, so he wasn't concerned by the unlikely possibility of someone stumbling across it.

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

_Crunch._

—

The Gman squinted at the faint pillar of smoke on the horizon. He stood atop a large hill, covered in a blanket of white, overlooking a large snowy plain.

And on that snowy plain was a horde.

From where he was, he couldn't make out individuals. Well, not very clearly. They seemed to be looking for something.

_Time to attract their attention, _The Gman thought with an anticipative smile as he coolly snapped his fingers.

Instantly the ground around him exploded in flames, towering columns of fire erupting from the ice. A resounding roar echoed across the plain, clearly heard by the army of ALAI in the distance.

The Gman then strode down the hill with an undercompensated air of confidence as fire rained down around him, before the flames were whisked away like so much chaff in the wind.

By the time he had reached level ground, he'd noticed that the group wasn't actually ALAI, per se. In fact, they seemed to be the Combine.

_Combine under the control of the ALAI, _The Gman thought to himself. According to what he knew, Alyx had killed all the Combine hosts that had come from the Borealis yesterday. That meant that apparently they had already cleared out the Combine underground defences.

The Gman almost felt sorry for them. But of course, he didn't. Because they were a bunch of trained sadistic bastards that deserved death.

Studying the congregation revealed there to be about fifty soldiers coming towards him, running hard, guns at their sides. The ALAI had evidently turned their bodies into puppet killing machines, lifeless and without the possibility of remorse.

_If the Combine had had any before, that is._

Their brains were probably dead, though, so they were only moving because of complex electrical pulses sent directly to the brain by the ALAI.

The Gman knew what the implants themselves looked like. They were like metal crabs, with flat, circular carapaces and four long tentacle-like limbs that ended with long metal spikes that penetrated the skull and the brain. On the top of the metal shell was a small, round red LED that looked to be a synthetic cyclopean eye.

He returned his focus to the approaching soldiers, smiling tightly.

There he was: a single, suited, unarmed nigh-omnipotent versus a group of mindless killers numbering the equivalent of a large military platoon.

Those poor bastards didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

The Gman chortled at the analogy. _Snowball's chance in hell. If anything, humans had an amazing talent at making interesting comparisons between completely unrelated topics._

And that was why he liked them so much.

—

The soldiers' heavy booted footfalls crunched the snow underfoot as they ran toward the pale suit in the distance, thirsty for blood and ready to kill.

The suited man walked calmly toward the soldiers, adjusting his tie as he went, brushing non-existent dust and snow from his lapels with an insouciant attitude that seemed to clearly show how superficial he thought this battle would be.

The opposing forces emotions couldn't have been more contrasting if they tried.

When the group came into range the soldiers bent their left knees and planted their right knees on the ground, the implants using their lifeless eyes to look down the iron sights of their weapons and open fire.

The bullets and pulse rounds flew around the Gman, every one of them flying past him as if he had some sort of negative magnetism. But they weren't reflecting, they just seemed to be missing him. And they kept missing him, until he was so close to them that he could walk up to the closest soldier as it and its friends pumped him full of lead, his blood splattering all over their masks, and brought his knee up into the soldier's chin.

The soldier's neck snapped backwards, the head rolling off behind it, its neck spraying blood all over the snow. The Gman turned to its comrades, swinging a punch into another's mask, his fist going straight through the soldier's skull and out the back with a squelch that would've made even the most avid gore-lover nauseous, wrenching the ALAI on the soldier's head off in the process.

The robot squealed frantically as the Gman tore it apart, dropping all but two of the spiked tentacles on the snow as the soldiers continued to shoot him. He stabbed the rigid metal appendages into the heads of two nearby soldiers, before kicking a third straight in the ribcage, snapping eight of his ribs, his spine and his entire upper body. His torso fell onto the ground as blood poured from what was left of his waist and legs, before the Gman stepped over it and grabbed two soldier's heads, crushing them in his hands.

The ALAI had realised by now that conventional weapons were doing jack little squat against this seemingly immortal individual and opted just to try and gang-bash him.

Never in the history of the world had there been a worse idea.

One swung a punch at the Gman, who grabbed his arm and ripped it from his shoulder before using it to club the soldier in the head. He brought the limb around, swinging it baseball style into another's chest, causing blood to squirt from the soldier's lungs as he fell to the ground like so many before him.

The Gman then snapped the arm in half, threw the upper half hard at a soldier's head, breaking his neck, and jabbing the fingers of the lower half into another soldier's eyepieces, spraying blood all over the Gman's already soiled suit.

Then he grabbed a soldier's head, twisted it backwards and pulled it off, kicking the headless body into the soldier behind it, knocking them both to the ground, before throwing the head at another with such force that the soldier's ribs cracked and punctured his own heart.

The Gman paused momentarily, looking down at his bloodied suit. He tutted disapprovingly, looked up and snapped his fingers.

The soldiers heads exploded, flames pouring from any gaps in their masks before blood and grey matter flew like confetti across the snow, before they rained down with an almost simultaneous splat.

The Gman looked around, inhaling deeply, before breathing out loudly and bending over, holding his hands on his legs from exhaustion.

—

_Blood, _the Gman thought. _God's way of telling you what you're doing is working. Unless it's your own._

His suit was covered in the red stuff, so much so that he could probably convince people who saw him that it was dyed red. Well, that pretence would fall apart should said people notice the hundreds of bullet wounds riddling the Gman's body.

He paused, looking down at his suit as it rustled in the wind. _I really should do something about that, _he decided.

He quickly removed it, pulling off his shirt as well to examine his body. When he saw how many there were, he whistled in amazement. _And everyone thought Dr. Freeman was being blithe about his wounds._

His body was covered in lead. No, scratch that. It was covered in blood _and _lead. His skin had probably been stained red with how much there was, and it was still bleeding. He calmly patted the centre of his chest twice, and the lead slugs simply fell onto the snow, the wounds healing up as if they hadn't ever been there.

Except one.

He looked down at the single remaining scar.

_Sleet Rock._

That battle was still vivid in his mind, so much so that it wouldn't leave him alone. It had been a horribly rough one, and he hadn't been as powerful back then as he was now. The Combine had been so much smaller back then. Now, they were huge. They had stretched their influence across the stars.

And now, their days were numbered.

The Gman looked down at his suit on the ground. It had already been covered in snow. He picked it up by the collar, shaking it off. The blood was gone, and the suit looked like new again. He chuckled to himself.

_Quasi-omnipotence never got old.

* * *

_

Whoo, boy. I've been updating quickly. 'Course, that's because there aren't many changes being done to the original thing now, apart from making everything better. Seriously, the last version was really rushed. I guess all you need to do is write something, then rewrite everything you just wrote, but _good._

One major change, though, relating to Sleet Rock. I won't give it away, but that's really the only big difference.

The Gman and ALAI battle really can;t be called an action sequence, but rather a bloodbath with a guy ripping zombies to pieces. but to be honest, I've never seen anyone do anything like it. Maybe because it's so sick that I'm the only person who's tried.

Ah well, so long as y'all enjoyed. Oh, one last note: that statement that 'there had never been a worse idea in the history of the world?' Well, I can think of plenty. The PS3 Orange Box port, for one. And Kraft's ingenious naming of the previously mentioned iSnack 2.0.

You know what they've called it now? Cheesybite. The hell kind of a name is that? It's a _spread_, not a snack food. Unless someone freezes it and then eats solid chunks of it, they can't really take a 'cheesy bite' of it.

That's disgusting, I apologise.


	21. Twenty: Deduction

**-=Chapter Twenty: Deduction=-**

**White Forest, 8:21 AM**

"We have been able to get telecommunications with the rest of Southeastern Europe," Dr. Magnusson announced to the gathering of Resistance leaders sitting in his office. "We have already contacted Resistance branches in Croatia and Macedonia and inquired of their situation." He tapped the computer monitors on the wall with a long rod, "the Croatian base outside of Zagreb reports they have found operational MiG-21 fighter jets at the old 91st Air Force Base. They have been using them ever since the Uprising began. The Resistance in Macedonia has reported an infestation of Xen aliens in the Sar Mountain area that has been causing the city of Tetovo major problems."

He straightened up in his seat as the screen behind him changed, depicting images of dead Combine soldiers with ALAI nesting on their heads. "The Gman has also reported that he has defeated a unit of ALAI soldiers and is approaching the remains of the Borealis. He hopes to find something in the ruins as the ship has not completely burnt out."

"So what're we doing?" Barney asked casually, resting on the old red couch in the office.

Dr. Magnusson huffed, irritated by Barney's attitude. "We will decide on a course of action once the Gman has given his full report."

Barney frowned, raising his hands. "So what are we doing here then?"

Magnusson frowned. Barney was truly an annoyance. "Your insolence, Mr. Calhoun, is unappreciated." His frown let up slightly as the topic changed, "However, at the moment we will be finding any remaining Combine units in Romania and prevent them regrouping to attack. We will call a briefing in an hour's time, from which we will send out recon teams to search the country around the base." Dr. Magnusson looked up at Dr. Kleiner. "Have you gotten word from Serbia yet?"

"N-not yet, Magnusson." Dr. Kleiner replied, adjusting his glasses. "They may not have had time to do so yet."

Dr. Magnusson huffed again, as if to blame Dr. Kleiner for something out of his hands. "Right. Well, you are dismissed."

Gordon stood up, cocking his head at Dr. Magnusson. Sure, he was a good leader, but Gordon didn't exactly approve of his controlling attitude. "We're not your subordinates, you know." He reminded Magnusson as he left with the others.

—

"Hey," Alyx looked over at Gordon, who was sipping his instant coffee with a hint of sadness in his bespectacled eyes, "what's wrong?"

The two were sitting at a small round metal table in the staff room, drinking coffee. The room was almost empty, aside from two people playing cards in the corner of the room.

"Hmm?" Gordon glanced over at her, apparently having drifted off in thought. "Oh, it's nothing."

Alyx smiled lightly. "Come on, tell me. Please?"

Gordon sighed, lowering his steaming polystyrene cup gently. "I just..." he shook his head. "I dunno, I just keep thinking... about everything. What's so special about me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sure, I defend the people I love, I kill the ones I hate, and I avenge people." Gordon shook his head again. "But why? How am I any different from anyone else?"

Alyx frowned slightly. "I'm still not sure what you mean."

"_How _can I defend people as well as I do? More importantly, how can I _kill _as well as I do?" Gordon swallowed, before taking another sip of his coffee. "I... I'm such a monster..."

He lowered his cup, rubbing his forehead firmly.

"Gordon..." Alyx pulled her chair closer to him, putting an arm around him. "The Combine is the monster."

Gordon looked up at her, exhaling loudly. "But... back at Black Mesa... I killed all those people. Those soldiers..."

"Were they trying to kill you?"

"Y-yes, but..." he swallowed. "You know what I keep telling myself?"

"What?"

"That as long as someone's trying to kill me, I can kill them without guilt." Gordon looked down into his cup, his hands shaking. "What a load of bullshit."

Alyx sat silently next to Gordon, realising the other two rebels had gone quiet as well. No doubt they were watching Gordon in shock. _Gordon Freeman _crying? The thought itself was insanity!

"Gordon..." she finally managed, getting him to look her in the eyes. "A monster wouldn't be thinking about these things."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you like killing?"

"N-no, I hate it. Well," he paused, "I like what comes about because I kill."

He paused again. "Hang on..."

Alyx smiled. His eyes were lighting up again.

"I like what comes about because I kill... when I kill, I defend others, I destroy my enemies... and I might be avenging someone."

He looked at Alyx, his expression having already entered super-scientist-thinking mode. "But _why _do I kill?"

Alyx smiled wider. _This _was the Gordon she knew. "Gordon... everyone here has killed someone for the same reasons you do."

Gordon stopped, thinking about her statement. "But then... I'm not any different."

Alyx rolled her eyes. Yep, it was the Gordon she knew alright. "Gordon, you're an amazing person. Look at all the things you've done!"

"Yes, but everyone else wants to do th—" he stopped himself, realising what that meant. "Everyone _wants _to do these things." He stood up suddenly, eyes wide and glowing like stars. He'd figured it all out! "It's in their _nature_. It's in _my _nature." He looked at Alyx — who had also stood up — as he grinned excitedly. "We fight because of our nature. We fight because we are _human beings_."

_Defending those I love..._

_Destroying those I hate..._

_Avenging those I was too late to save..._

_Defence, Destruction, Vengeance._

_Survival._

_These are all human nature._

_And rapid response reflexes just help me out a bit._

This _is the point of origin. _This _is the reason behind my achievements._

_Because I'm human._

Gordon suddenly grabbed Alyx, hugging her tightly. He sighed, his mind finally at peace. "Thank you."

"Uh..." Alyx returned the hug, not entirely sure what was going on but not really caring nonetheless. What mattered was that she'd cheered Gordon up. "You're welcome."

**Underground Combine Base, 8:56 AM**

_Records of the Borealis... _The Gman thought tensely. _That's what I need._

He was standing inside the underground Combine base, amidst smouldering subterranean buildings complete with bloody streaks across the cold metal floor. _However, the chances of any such records surviving the destruction of the Borealis are minimal._

He walked through the rubble, the faint smell of smoke and the slightly more potent smell of blood. The ALAI had certainly torn this place to shreds.

_Not just the ALAI, _he thought with a humourless smile, _Corporal Shephard also partook in dealing a heavy blow to this base._

The silence was everpresent, possibly intensifying the smell of smoke and blood. The only noise the Gman could hear was his own soft footsteps on the cold metal. He sniffed, inhaling freezing air and the sickening stench of rotting flesh. He coughed, wiping his mouth distastefully. _Bad choice._

He caught a glimpse of something orange out of the corner of his eye, before it went around a corner not long after. He didn't know what it was and honestly didn't care. It wasn't as if it would pose a threat to him, should he come across it again.

When he reached the destroyed Combine gate — complete with redecorated crimson walls and grey matter chunks — he attempted to sidestep the gore and exit through a conveniently positioned hole in the gate that appeared to have been caused by something sharp, or so the deep scratches told him. There were also deep bullet indents in the gate, something he was certain had been thanks to the Resistance helicopters.

A frigid gust welcomed him to the crevasse as he stepped out of the Combine base and onto the bridge. Surprisingly, it was still intact and in an adequate condition. Wind howled across the steep walls of ice on all sides, even over the charred remains of the Borealis.

There was a large hole in the side of the Borealis, around the engine room area. There was a faint orange glow pulsating from within that the Gman assumed was a collection of determined flames feasting on some sort of fuel. The hole was perfectly lined up with the bridge so the Gman guessed the Combine had been responsible.

He walked out onto the main part of the bridge, the wind increasing in intensity, ruffling his suit and his short cropped hair. Casually, he brushed off his lapels and continued. The sound of rotor blades caught his attention and he gazed skywards as a Hunter Chopper flew directly overhead.

_Was it possible that orange clad being had stolen a helicopter?_

The Gman decided to make a mental note of this: _Someone other than a Combine soldier was seen momentarily, moving through the base. Not long after, I spotted a Hunter-Chopper flying east. Are these two connected?_

Continuing his trek, he walked through the reasonably sized hole in the hull of the burned out ship. He was interested to find that the floor was wet, despite the fact that there were still some small flames content to burn in quiet solitude. He squinted through the dim light, noticing half of the ship was cut off by a wall of ice that was slowly being melted by the fires.

_Of course, _the Gman reminded himself internally, _the ship is embedded in ice._

That meant it had somehow been teleported into the wall and the ice hadn't compensated to this fact by moving.

_That doesn't clear anything up, _the Gman thought, feeling slightly annoyed. _I already knew that._

He looked around. Doubtless there was no power anywhere, thanks to the rebel's attack on the ship. Even an auxiliary battery would require the ship's AI to activate it, and the Gman was pretty sure the AI was as dead as the crew. He clapped his hands twice and the power returned in a flash, the sudden illumination of the room and the whirring of various machines signifying that.

Then something exploded above him. The Gman snapped his head up in surprise to look at the ceiling, realising that the sudden return of power had obviously given something up there a new source of fuel for it to burn. He shrugged, walking over to a nearby staircase.

The ground was littered with empty 5.56mm bullet cases that the Gman guessed was from the same Combine unit that made the hole in the hull. There was also a single body lying on the ground, dry blood surrounding a bullet wound in its head. There were also four identical marks on the back of the corpse's head.

_ALAI, _the Gman thought, _apparently cannot take control of hosts with damage to their brain. This soldier took a bullet to the head, and therefore his brain was unable to be used._

He paused, before chuckling to himself. _Ah, I remember. Mr. Shephard was responsible for this._

The Gman headed for the stairway to the left of the dead body, down a narrow corridor now lit by flickering halogen light. He stopped at the staircase, carefully ascending the stairs that had been partially cut off by a wall of ice.  
As he reached the top, he found himself in a small room leading into a hallway lined with doors.

"_And bel... —ve..."_

The Gman looked up at the crackling speakers on the roof curiously.

"—_m st... —ive..."_

He frowned. Apparently the AI was still operating. To a degree, of course, as it seemed to be malfunctioning. He kept going, the lights buzzing electrically as the lights flickered on and off.

"—_oing sci... —nd I'm... —ill al..."_

The Gman opened the closest door, finding a small room complete with bed and desk. It appeared to be someone's quarters. Someone who was probably dead, something the Gman attributed to the bloody streak on the wall and the chunk of cheekbone lying on the desk.

He turned on the light, spotting a mutilated corpse on the ground. There was a sheet of paper with a bloody handprint on the ground that appeared to have fallen off the desk.

Ignoring the stench of death and old blood, the Gman grabbed the sheet of paper casually, a small part tearing off the corner as it was caked in dry blood. He held it up to the light, cocking an eyebrow at the handwritten words. It was scrawled, assumedly with desperation and frantic haste. Blood had obscured some of the text.

_...aDOS has gone crazy. The whol... ip has telep... o some so... t of polar re... ion and s... 's making anno... ements on the P... ying that Bl... esa has sen... orld to hel..._

_...he clai... that so... ne appeare... ther... not long ago, wit... Xe... ystal he ga... llace Bree... nd now... veryone is do...ed._

_...ell is a... erture Sci...ce wi... Harr... Glidewell. I... ure GLa... oralit... re is defec... ve. Mu... et out of h... live and h... im._

_Sh... yone fi... his, I b... ou, go to Ap...re ... cience. GL... OS has artif... al intelli... nce unri...led by an... ing else. I fe... he has be... me a malevole... orror. Y... ust stop he..._

The rest was on the blood covered fragment on the ground. The Gman folded up the paper, dried blood crunching as he did so, and slipped it into his suit pocket.

The message had been verging on illegible, but the Gman had gotten most of it.

The AI on the ship, GLaDOS, had evidently gone crazy and teleported the Borealis to North Sweden. How she did this was unexplained, but the deceased writer was now post-mortally requesting anyone who find his message go to Aperture Science to find a way to stop her.

Of course, there was also that matter of the orange clad person... had they come from this ship?

"—_ead I wi... — e sti... live..."_

The Gman decided there was probably a connection between the two. If that person had been here for as long as the ship had been, then there was a solution to the problem of who built the ALAI.

He needed answers. And he was going to get them at Aperture Science.

After all...

"_Sti... —al...e, st... —ive..."_

...the AI was apparently still alive.

* * *

Alright, the quick updates are OVER, people. For long time readers, no more of this same chapter stuff. Now you will be graced with fresh chapters, and the plot will continue its hike to the climax of the story.

I have everything planned. I just haven't written it yet.

So it's out with the old and in with the new from here on out. From now on, I am writing NEW things instead of things already seen.

To new readers who've only read this version, ignore everything I said. But anyway, the Gman. Ah, the Gman. Forget 'sinister intergalactic bureaucrat', the Gman is a 'poetic warrior businessman'. At least, that's what I try to make him. He's got a soft side, but he kicks ass when he has to, and he does it with a dignified demeanour. It's like if the Queen got a Kalashnikov and went crazy on her enemies, before coming back home to the UK to drink tea and do things the royal family do.

OK, it's nothing like that. But you get the idea. My Gman is unique, and I hope everyone likes him for it.


	22. Twenty One: Enlightenment

**-=Chapter Twenty One: Enlightenment=-**

**White Forest, 11:39 AM**

The recon team heard the chopper coming miles before they actually saw it. They were riding in the gutted out '69 model Dodge Charger Dr. Freeman had so kindly driven into the base not a week ago, and most of them were just sitting on top of the boot while holding onto the car's metal frame like it was a safety bar.

"You know, I hear he's got real bad luck," one of the rebels had told his comrades earlier, his expression serious.

Someone else had snorted in disbelief, throwing him a sarcastic look. "Yeah, right. How many other guys did we get driving in with a muscle car and a hot chick?"

Nobody was thinking about this at the moment, though. They were listening to the roar of the helicopter blades. It was entirely possible that it was an enemy unit coming to attack White Forest, since the Romanian Combine force had been in hiatus for almost a week now, and more than one person was worried as surprise attack was in the works.

The whirr of the blades got louder and louder until the helicopter flew past them somewhere above the forest canopy, signified by the whirr getting quieter.

One of the soldiers grabbed the mike of a portable radio they'd been given before heading out. "White Forest, this is Recon Team Alpha Two, uh, a Hunter-Chopper just flew by us, unsure whether it's ours or not."

"_Copy, Alpha Two," _came the reply, _"we have confirmed the unit as friendly."_

The rebel nodded. "Copy that, White Forest." He quickly placed the mike back into its cradle, exhaling loudly as he looked at his mates, "boy, you never know when they're gonna strike."

—

"Helix One to White Forest," the Gman reported over the radio as he approached the mountain base, gliding over the sea of trees below him. "I am approaching your perimeter, requesting permission to land."

"Permission granted, Helix One," the radio operator confirmed instantly. "Bring yourself in."

"Copy, White Forest. Oh, by the way," the Gman added with a hint of superiority, "I was going to land anyway, I just didn't want to cause unnecessary panic."

—

"He's back already?" Alyx asked as she headed into the sunlight after Gordon and Barney, looking over the horizon at the surrounding mountains, the towering trees and the sleek black Hunter-Chopper headed for the hangar.

They'd just exited the command centre of White Forest, the room that led out to the open area adjacent to the hangar. It was the last time she'd really spent with her father before he'd died. "Well," Gordon shrugged, opening the door to the hangar, "hopefully he's got something to tell us?"

The group descended the metal stairs of the hangar quickly as a group of rebels opened the roof. The jet black chopper lowered itself into the hangar, whirring loudly as its propellers blew discarded rubbish around the large open space.

The Gman climbed out of the helicopter, brushing his suit off as if he were a political figure disembarking a presidential helicopter. "Good afternoon, Dr. Freeman." He nodded at the scientist, then at Alyx, "Ms. Vance, Mr. Calhoun," he nodded at Barney. "If you would care to accompany me to Dr. Magnusson's office, I would be very glad to oblige."

"Sure," Gordon nodded, noticing the Gman's dignified tone. Always the professional.

The Gman joined their small group, before they headed back toward the main complex.

"What'd you find?" Barney inquired curiously, unable to hide his eagerness.

"I will explain in full detail once the other leaders have convened for my report." The Gman replied, seemingly unwilling to divulge anything just yet. Gordon couldn't tell, but the thin smile he wore seemed to show he wasn't doing this as a formality, but rather to be enigmatic. "However," he added, possibly having guessed what Gordon was thinking, "I can reveal that the perpetrator of the crime that is conception of the ALAI..." he paused dramatically, raising an eyebrow, "...is the Aperture Science artificial intelligence."

—

"I found this message," the Gman slipped the bloody paper from his suit and handed it to Dr. Magnusson, "while searching what I have deduced was once the crew's quarters of the ship.

Dr. Magnusson read over it, stopping about half way. "It's nigh on impossible to read." He sniffed pompously.

"I was able to decipher it easily enough," the Gman replied with a hint of annoyance at Magnusson's attitude. "According to this, the Borealis' artificial intelligence — GLaDOS, I believe it is titled — malfunctioned and began behaving problematically. It teleported the Borealis to Northern Sweden..." he paused, "possibly before the Black Mesa Incident."

Everyone sat up at that remark. "I assume you have something to base this on?" Dr. Magnusson asked slowly.

"Of course," the Gman folded the paper up again, slipping it into his suit pocket. "The AI was aware of my presence at Black Mesa and my delivery of the Xen Crystal to Wallace Breen."

Gordon wondered why no-one was reacting to this comment, then he remembered that everyone else knew as well as he did that the Gman had been the operating mastermind behind it.

Gordon suddenly had a thought. _Hold on, if he orchestrated the Black Mesa Incident..._

Why did nobody else seem to care? So many people had died because of him, and they weren't doing anything? Gordon frowned to himself, but kept his silence. He'd talk to the Gman later.

"How did it know that?" Dr. Kleiner inquired, cleaning his glasses, reminding Gordon that they were discussing critical matters.

"That is something I wish to discover soon," the Gman answered calmly. "I will be investigating the Aperture Laboratories in Ohio as soon as possible. Logistics-wise, there are no problems as I found fuel for the Hunter-Choppers in the underground Combine base." He paused suddenly, his expression changing. "There is also another matter at hand, one of... well, disputable value. But I saw a Hunter-Chopper fly away while I was crossing the bridge leading to the Borealis. Earlier, I had seen someone out of the corner of my eye wearing very conspicuous orange clothing. I had come to the obvious conclusion this person was not part of the Combine, but I have no idea as the where they came from."

"I doubt we would need worry about that right now, Gman." Magnusson suggested somewhat forcibly. "Back on topic, what is it you intend to find at the Aperture Laboratories?"

"I hope to find a way to destroy the Aperture Science GLaDOS." The Gman replied coolly. "As I have already stated I believe she is the guilty party here concerning the ALAI's existence, and being the artificial intelligence in command of the entire corporation I also believe she is effectively the hivemind of the ALAI."

"Hold on," Alyx interrupted, "Are you saying this... GLaDOS was the voice we heard whispering on the radio back in Sweden?"

"I have no doubt about it, my dear."

"So she was on the Borealis."

"And therefore I believe she is integrated into all of Aperture Science's technological components, possibly branching out as far as their vehicles, security and laboratories."

"Right," Alyx nodded, slumping slightly in her seat now that her question had been answered.

"So, when do we leave?" Barney asked, his enthusiasm sparking up again.

"Pardon me?" The Gman glanced over at Barney, a look of confusion on his face.

"When do we leave?" Barney repeated, frowning slightly.

"I was intending to go myself." The Gman admitted calmly.

Barney snorted. "Ah, hell no. You think we're gonna sit around here scratching our asses while you get to do all the fun stuff?"

The Gman shrugged. "If you insist, Mr. Calhoun, I would gladly allow you and any others to accompany me on this mission."

Noticing not only Barney's face lighting up, but Alyx and Gordon's too, made the Gman smile slightly. _Their exuberance is unusual, _he noted. _Certainly, it is human nature to want to fight. But such keen attitude at the thought of such a dangerous mission is uncommon._

He watched the three of them cautiously. _Their lives are my responsibility, _he thought to himself. _I am fully accountable for their wellbeing, and thus I cannot allow any of them to come to harm. Severing such strings could prove cataclysmic to the plan._

**French Airspace, 12:40 PM**

The helicopter soared across the Western European sky, its whirring blades the only sound audible for miles around. There weren't many things down there anymore that would make noise, but the Gman — who was piloting — was making sure to watch for any Combine outposts or bases. After all, the Uprising on a global scale was raging, and it had been for a week or so now.

Gordon turned away from the scenes of destruction he saw below him. They were flying over what used to be the city of Limoges. Now, it had suffered a similar fate to the one City 17 had before the collapse of the Citadel's core.

Instead of the vivid scenes below, Gordon looked at the Gman. He was staring out the window of the cockpit, completely oblivious to the scene below. Gordon then remembered he had something he needed to talk to the Gman about. "What were you thinking about," he began, his tone soft, "when you saw the resonance cascade happen?"

The Gman nodded. "It was a regrettable decision, Dr. Freeman, but it was also the only one we had."

A pause. _He knew what I was talking about. _Gordon thought, getting that feeling that he was inferior again. _Damn, he's good._ "Don't you care?" he demanded, taking the offensive. "I mean, you've sacrificed so many people just to drive us further into the ground with the Combine!"

The Gman looked Gordon in the eye. "I clearly explained my mission to you, Dr. Freeman."

"But is it worth it?" Gordon retorted, staring angrily at the Gman.

"The plan has progressed past the possibility of failure." The Gman answered calmly. "The Combine _will _fall."

"And how many human lives have been sacrificed to obtain this?" Gordon retaliated instantly.

The Gman's expression suddenly changed as he started to get angry. He stared at Gordon closely, his bright eyes piercing to his very soul. For an instant, Gordon felt a stab of intimidation, but he shook it off and stood up to him. "Dr. Freeman, I know for a fact you are _not_ knowledgeable on everything I and the Fissionist Faction have done to keep the Combine at bay." He let up suddenly, his eyes softening. "We, too, have made sacrifices. Sacrifices to ensure your safety."

Gordon was listening now. The Gman was speaking in his sincere, collected tone. "Like what?" Gordon asked quietly.

The Gman shook his head, laughing softly. "Oh, I couldn't count them all."  
"Tell me one."

With a sigh, the Gman conceded. "Alright, how about I show you just how hard one of my battles was?" He slowly unbuttoned his suit and lifted up his shirt. Gordon's eyes widened in shock. "Whoa," he muttered, gazing at the giant scar crossing the Gman's abdomen. "What happened?"

The Gman lowered his shirt. "If you'd like, I can tell you."

**Sleet Rock, pre-Combine Invasion of Earth**

The moon was habitable, yes. Cold as hell is hot and with a denser atmosphere, but it was fine for colonization, so long as you didn't mind the cold.

Or you were looking for something you desperately needed.

They'd heard the Combine was looking for temporal spatial shifting devices — no doubt as a way to further expand their empire — and as such the Fissionists had set up a base around a specific site on this frigid moon, suitably titled Sleet Rock because, in essence, that's what it was.

There were about two hundred and sixty something soldiers stationed at the base on the moon, twenty four battle tanks and fifty or so Anti-Aircraft defences. The tanks were thankfully able to manoeuvre quite easily on the snow-covered rocky surface of the moon, and thus they were stationed just outside the base.

The Combine was coming in via dropships so the AA defences were inside the base perimeter. Because dropships didn't have any sort of weapons but rather armour stronger than an elephant on steroids, the missile warheads probably wouldn't have much trouble actually hitting the dropships, unless the Combine was sending in fighters too.

Member Eight was in command of the defending force as a field operative, dressed in his commonplace blue suit and matching purple tie. There was one difference, and that was the insignia he wore. Or rather, that he was wearing an insignia at all. He was leading a defence so he was given full command of the troops as five star general.

The soldiers set themselves up on the wall surrounding the complex. The base was in a corner of sorts, a mountain range towering behind them as defence from behind and to the right. The rest was covered by the soldiers, the spread out line of battle tanks and the AA launchers inside the perimeter.

All they needed now was a target.

—

"Sir, we are picking up hostile units on the radar, coming from the rear!"

The Gman rushed over to the consoles to see what was going on. Sure enough, the radar had picked up four — nay, five — dropships already, flying over the mountains behind them.

"This is unfortunate," he muttered, rubbing his mouth nervously. "How many Anti Aircraft launchers do we have around the rear?"

"We weren't anticipating an attack from behind," another man explained. "Our entire force is facing the plains."

"The AA launchers are mobile, yes?"

"Affirmative, sir, but..."

"Turn them around," the Gman ordered, heading over to a nearby radio and grabbing the mike quickly. "Vikon, do you copy?"

"_Loud and clear, Gregory. What's wrong?"_

"The enemy is attacking from the rear, repeat, hostile units coming from the mountains."

There was silence for a moment on the other end. _"I see them!" _Vikon confirmed a few moments later. _"There's... ten so far. Thanks, Gregory, I'll get my boys to come around."_

"Copy that, Vikon. Out." The Gman replaced the mike, turning to the radar operator. "How many units now?"

"I count twelve, sir."

The Gman nodded. "Right. How about our AA launchers?"

"They're ready whenever you need them, sir!"

"Give them the order to open fire when the enemy is in range. What about our tanks?"

"Sir, our tanks are still out the front of the base, waiting for the enemy that isn't coming." Someone answered darkly. The Gman didn't like his tone, but at least he wasn't being insubordinate. "Can we get the—"  
"Sir, enemy units coming from the front!"

The Gman spun around to look at the radar operator. "Are you certain?"

"Positive, sir. Looks like our tanks have spotted 'em."

On the radar, up in the top right part of the screen, were two lines of dots. One line, the one furthest from the centre, was made up of red dots. The other one was all green. Both were moving toward each other, shown by the gradual movement of the dots every time the radar swept around to them, pinging as it did.

The Gman pursed his lips. Things weren't looking so good. "Can our boys see the enemy?"

"That depends on what you mean, sir." The radar operator explained. "Their radars would have picked them up a while ago now, but they wouldn't have actually seen the enemy unless their commanders looked out the manhole."

The Gman nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. Vision inside a tank was piss poor at best, and more often than not the commander of the tank would poke his head out the top and see what they were up against with his own eyes. The other three men inside — the driver, the gunner and the weapon loader — were effectively blind.

The Gman made his way through the consoles and desks, over to tank command and coordination where he quickly contacted the commanders of the tank unit. "All units, this is Gman Gregory. Any news on the hostile units?"

Someone replied almost immediately. _"Affirmative, sir. They're all Arctic Striders, painted full white."_

_Striders, _the Gman thought, relaxing a bit. _Good, they're easy targets. _"Thanks for that. You may open fire whenever possible. Out."

—

Thirty elite soldiers.

Two of them were Kush'iaa, a race of stealthy hunters with immediate precognitive abilities, and they were positioned somewhere up above the rest of the people with suppressed bolt-action sniper rifles.

Five of them were Verkk, giant powerhouses that could resist almost every type of conventional assault with the possible exception of tactical nuclear weapons, armed with chain-loaded heavy machineguns that looked a lot like the human M2 Browning.

The rest were selected infantry of the Fissionist Faction, all armed with selective fire, fully automatic capable, gas operated assault rifles.

All of them, guarding a single giant machine in the middle of the room. It had not been built by the Fissionists, in fact, no one knew who had built it. But its existence was indisputably important and so the Fissionists had made sure that it didn't and wouldn't — fall into Combine hands.

To give one an idea of the size of this behemoth, the room was fifty metres tall and had the same diameter. The machine itself was connected to both the roof and the floor, the top half being a large mechanical device that hung down from the ceiling like a sleeping bat. The machine was shaped like a rounded cone and the tip was pointed down at the ground. The tip had four long metal prongs sticking off it that were also pointed at the ground, and there were two little split on the cone where the machine was in three different segments that would begin to rotate whenever one of the respective three stages that led up to temporal spatial shifting was activated.

The lower part was basically a secured pit that would be sealed and bathed in particles created by the upper part.

The tempspat (temporal spatial) teleporter was simple in theory: It required both a power source and a crystalline substance with negative mass to operate. The power source was to power the upper part of the machine so it could discharge the particles it created, and the crystal with anti-mass was used to give those particles the necessary properties for tempspat travel.

**Present Day**

"Wait, wait, wait." Gordon interrupted, smiling.

The Gman obliged, looking at him curiously. "Yes, Dr. Freeman?"

"You're saying that the teleporter needed a crystalline substance with negative mass."

The Gman smiled then, having realised what Gordon was talking about. "I assume you have an approximation as to what this substance was?"

"Let me guess," Gordon leaned back in his chair confidently, "Xen crystals."

"Of course, you are correct." The Gman agreed, nodding at Gordon as he looked back out the cockpit windows, "however," he smiled, glancing back momentarily, "there are only four crystals with enough power to make it work, and even then they are single use only. One use and they lose all purpose, expect perhaps as jewellery. Two of those four crystals were destroyed on Xen, I know for a fact. We had two of them in our possession..."

"Until you gave one to Dr. Breen?" Gordon suggested, raising an eyebrow.

A pause from the Gman was all Gordon needed to know he was right. The Gman changed the subject. "Being a theoretical physicist, you of course know the theory of the properties of anti-mass."

"Oh, for sure," Gordon snorted, "That's all I did at Black Mesa: try and prove that anti-mass is able to create wormholes between other universes or other locations in this dimension." He laughed almost wistfully at the thought, "Guess we proved that by screwing the world up, didn't we?"

"Indeed." The Gman agreed, though he wasn't sure he was being helpful in doing so. "Can you see the connection between a time machine and a power source containing anti-mass?"

"The same properties applied to anti-mass concerning spatial wormholes can also be applied to temporal ones."

"Exactly. Xen crystals are the perfect substance to power both temporal and spatial transportation devices. However," he added, "as I have already said, only one remains in any condition to do such a thing, and it has been restricted only to be used when in a situation so desperate the alternative would be the destruction of the Fissionist faction."

"So, no joy rides back to see the dinosaurs?" Gordon asked with a smile.

The Gman laughed at the thought. "Definitely not."

Gordon sighed, sitting forward. "You haven't told me how you got that scar yet."

The Gman sighed as well, "I suppose I can skip over most of what I did. After all, it was mostly hearing about dropships getting blown up and our battle tanks shooting Striders. Only once the infantry had made their way into the base did things really heat up."

**Sleet Rock**

Infantry rushed inside the base, followed closely by a hail of hot lead. The entire base was built on a hill that then levelled out before reaching an impasse of mountain. Already a few dropships worth of troops had taken the rear end of the base and now the Strider-covered forward attack team had breached the perimeter too.

Since the base was built on a hill, there were perfectly shaped concrete stairs leading to level ground, which was paved with stone and occupied by big towers and large buildings. As the group ascended these stairs, gunfire rained down on them from the front, the pursuers now having ceased their fire.

Soldiers fell, while others returned fire as they ran. Blood splattered on the stairs and over other soldiers' boots as they ran through it. Defenders fell from their posts, or took cover and returned fire.

Not far away, the Gman looked out over the battlefield from atop a balcony adjacent to the command centre. The dome-roofed building was effectively the epicentre of the base in all ways except physically. The physical epicentre was a stone courtyard empty of anything but a solitary bronze statue that shone brilliantly in contrast to the pale shades of stone and snow.

Sadly, though, there was now bright crimson added to this mix.

The Gman's jaw tensed as he watched the battle. _I should be helping them,_ he decided, turning on his heels and heading back into the control room.

Officers looked up at him as he entered. "How goes it, sir?" one of them asked.

"Not well, I'm afraid to report." He admitted, rushing past them.

"Sir," another called after him, "where are you going?"

"I'm going to fight alongside our people!" came the reply from a hallway not far from where they were standing.

—

_I never thought I'd regret such a decision..._

The soldiers were desperate not to fail their leaders, their commanders, their senior officers. Whether it was a matter of pride or to avoid the consequences that would result in such failure, I cannot say. Perhaps it was both.

What did matter was that they were merciless. People got shot whether they were injured or not, disabled soldiers were killed just so they were out of the way.

The Gman was taking cover behind the wall of a building not ten metres from the enemy's front line. He looked at the automatic rifle he held in his hands, the dull gunmetal grey and the texture of the adhesive grip of the handguard. He gritted his teeth, pointing his gun back around the corner. Two men were a mere metre from him when he did. The first got his head blasted to pieces, blood splattering on the wall to his left while bits of cranium and brain hit the ground. The second moved quickly, took a quick step forward and slashed the Gman across the stomach with his combat knife in an attempt to disembowel him.

Instantly, the Gman doubled over, blood pouring from his wound. He dropped his gun limply and fell over forwards in the snow as the soldier simply walked off, leaving him to die.

—

A little while later, the Gman's eyes snapped open and immediately his stomach started hurting again. Apparently, he'd fallen unconscious after getting slashed in the stomach. Slowly, he rolled onto his back and surveyed the damage. His suit was cleanly cut and splattered with blood, and his skin and muscle had also been clean cut through. His head reeling from blood loss, the Gman tried to stand on his weakened legs. Three times he collapsed into a pile of crimson snow before he finally gave up and managed to sit himself against the wall.

He looked around at the carnage the Combine had created. Nothing was on fire, but the bodies on the ground and the terrible smell told him that the Combine really done them in.

He didn't know if the teleporter was secure or not, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Slowly, he pulled his radio from his suit pocket, checking for any blood. It was clean, so he quickly contacted the command centre. He could see it from where he was and from what he could tell it wasn't damaged much, maybe some bullets ricochets had done minimal damage. It was all superficial anyway. "Command centre, this is Gman Gregory, do you read me?"

"_Sir, you're alive!" _came the frantic reply. _"We got a report saying you'd been stabbed!"_

'Well, I'm still here." He answered gruffly. "How are things going?"

"_Not so well, sir. Our radars are picking up a platoon of heavy weapons infantry headed our way and we don't have many people left to stop them. Where are you, by the way?"_

"About thirty metres from the stairs," the Gman replied, coughing.

There was a pause on the other end. _"Sir, this is a bit of a longshot, but is it possible that you could... y'know, hold them off?"_

The Gman considered it. Sure, he'd suffered an injury any mortal person would probably have died from, but he wasn't _that _badly done over. "They're coming from the front?"

"_Affirmative, sir. ETA is five or so minutes at the rate they're moving now."_

"How many?"

"_Around about thirty machinegunners, sir. General purpose, not heavy."_

The Gman paused before answering. "I'll try," he conformed eventually.

"_Sir, if you pull this off then there's no way we can lose. The Combine's about as weak as we are and the only thing between us and victory is that heavy weapons platoon."_

"Then let's make sure they don't get in our way, huh?" the Gman answered before slipping his radio back into his suit pocket. He sighed, looking at his stomach. _Geez, what am I doing?_

He rolled his eyes, looking around. His rifle was still lying on the ground nearby, a few flecks of blood on the side. He leaned over, straining his stomach even more as he swiped at it. Finally, he reached it and pulled it back over to him. He checked the magazine before reloading it and unlocking the grenade launcher. It wasn't loaded, so he quickly made sure it was.

_Thirty men, _he thought tensely. _Yeah, I can do that._

—

The shuffling of clothing and clinking of metal was the only alert that anyone would've gotten had they been listening into the silence a few minutes later. A large group of soldiers was making their way through the Fissionist base in an attempt to give their boys a shot at victory. They all had rifle cartridge GPMGs that they were hoping would turn the tide of this battle. Already it had been going for an hour or so and they weren't intending on it going for much longer.

The buildings weren't very tightly packed, they noticed. Large amounts of empty space that would be perfect for cover should there have been anything occupying them. But of course, the Fissionists demonstrated yet again they weren't a militant operation despite the facade they presented the Combine, but rather a political one led by pompous diplomats in pressed suits that couldn't point a gun at someone's head if someone was pointing one at theirs.

And they thought they could defeat the Universal Union. Arrogant little bit—

_Whump!_

The explosion that followed shook the earth, knocking soldiers to the ground from both the shaking and the blast. Gunfire rained down on the platoon, riddling the soldiers with bullets as they tried to get to their feet and return fire. A few soldiers spotted the assailant a moment before they were killed and they died in utter shock. The man was lying against the wall, his stomach covered in blood and his _pressed suit _sliced, firing an automatic rifle at them!

Some got a few hurried shots off before their world went dark, but after all the noise and chaos had ceased only two bullets had actually hit the bastard, both in his upper left arm.

Dropping the gun from complete exhaustion, the Gman slowly pulled his radio out. "I've disposed of every single one. They got me twice, but... no, I'm alright. Would it be possible to send someone to get me?"

"_Of course, sir, I'll send for someone immediately." _Came the excited reply.

The Gman didn't even bother putting his radio away. He just dropped his hand into the snow and relaxed his entire body, slumping very unprofessionally.

—

**Present day**

"So you see, Dr. Freeman," the Gman concluded, "I am not without my fair share of suffering for someone else's cause."

Gordon looked down, a little ashamed at his outburst. Of course, from what he'd seen from the Gman he was all talk and discussion. He hadn't seen him fight, though he assumed he had done so while making his way to the Borealis.

And Gordon was confident the time would come again once they'd reached Aperture Science.

Gordon looked out at the afternoon sky, thinking about their destination. They were over the ocean now, and what a beautiful sight it was. "Well," Gordon began, "how long would you say 'til we get there?"

"I would estimate... around six hours." The Gman

The Hunter-Chopper glided high above the ocean, waves making beautifully obscure reflections. Gordon sighed, thinking about how much beauty the Combine had taken away from the world. "Man, I wonder how we're going to start again."

"Pardon me?" The Gman looked over at him.

"Reconstructing the human governing bodies," Gordon explained. "Are we just going to return to our countries and restart the United States or the United Kingdom, or the United Nations, even? Or are we just going to form one nation, or none at all?"

The Gman paused. He didn't really have an answer that would be of any value. "That, Dr. Freeman," he replied finally, "is something the human race must decide for itself as one, when the time comes to do so."

**Unknown time, Unknown location**

"_Sir, I must object."_

"You are in no position to object."

"_Sir, we are not ready to launch an attack on the base..."_

"We will be attacking tonight. I will be contacting others and deciding on a position to regroup before sunset. The base is not so strong as you may think. Besides, there is something else that will make the attack so much simpler."

"_Sir?"_

"Neither Anticitizen One, nor Vance Subprime, nor Enforcement Infiltrator will be at the base when we attack and they will not be able to return in time even if they were alerted to our presence two hours before we even attacked."

* * *

OK, from here on out the only thing I'm working from is my chapter list and my list of notes and plot synopsis, both in hardcopy and in my head. This chapter had a vast makeover, and I am absolutely certain everyone will have enjoyed it more than the last version. Plus, this actually adds some critical information to the plot.


	23. Twenty Two: Aperture Science

**-=Chapter Twenty Two: Aperture Science=-**

**Aperture Laboratories, Cleveland, Ohio, 7:26 PM**

There was a vast difference between Black Mesa and Aperture Science, as Gordon noticed the instant he laid eyes on the facility.

For starters, it wasn't in the desert of New Mexico, rather the suburban areas of Greater Cleveland, Ohio. Thus it was surrounded by trees and it even had an above ground complex. Gordon assumed the facility expanded below the surface since what he could see was on the topside wasn't very much at all.

Oh, and there was a giant hole in the middle of the carpark.

It looked like someone had detonated a small amount of explosives on the bitumen, accidentally uncovering a sparsely covered entrance to hell they had just happened to place the explosives over the top of. Surrounding it was a large motley collection of widespread charred metal debris, flaking paint revealing slowly rusting metal beneath.

The helicopter slowly descended into the middle of this disaster-zone as the four occupants just stared at the scene around them. The whole place was deserted, without a sign of life anywhere, and yet somehow it seemed to have been... maintained. If it wasn't for the large hole in the ground and the scattered remains of destroyed machines, Aperture Science would appear to still be a fully functional corporation. The orange and yellow sunset also made it seem a little bit more eerie rather than welcoming, but Gordon wasn't sure why.

The Combine, it seemed, hadn't touched the facility. Then again, Gordon hadn't seen any soldiers or anything in their earth-based hierarchy and that included Advisors. In fact, Gordon hadn't seen an Advisor since Eli's death.

Xen aliens, on the other hand, had been roaming the city like it was their natural habitat. They'd flown over Downtown Cleveland not twenty minutes ago, and the whole place had been as ravaged as City 17 had been not a month ago. But the Combine didn't appear to be the perpetrators of this crime, rather the Xen aliens who had made their way in and torn it apart. Gordon had seen zombies wandering the streets, and antlions clawing their way out of the dirt in the Public Square.

The monument to the Civil War soldiers and sailors had been spotted by Barney, the statue out the front having been felled some time previously.

The helicopter landed amid the desolate carpark and Gordon disembarked quickly, looking around. There were no cars there either. It was as if the whole facility had been evacuated _before _the Combine arrived.

Gordon looked down at the unfamiliar weapon in his hands. The M4A1 rifle that Alyx had plundered from the dead body of Adrian Shephard he now held in his hands. The same rifle that had killed Dr. Mossman was now being used to fight for the purpose she had served the Resistance in her life.

Gordon's mind returned to the world suddenly when his eyes focused on Alyx. She'd walked ahead of him, the light glinting off the stolen revolver she had holstered by her side. "Whoa," she murmured, gazing into the dark depths of the pit. She turned around, first looking at Gordon, then at Barney and the Gman. "What do you think caused it?"

"It would appear to have been caused by something from below the surface." The Gman hypothesised, taking a step toward it. "You can tell by the way the edges are shaped."

Sure enough, Gordon noted that the rim of the hole was angled outwards and toward the sky rather than inwards as a bomb crater would. "So something down _there,_" Gordon too stepped closer to the edge, looking over into the immovable darkness in a vain attempt to see something, "caused this?"

"That is my assumption," the Gman agreed. "It is also backed up by the evidence around us. For example," he gestured out at the carpark around them, "the metal debris seems to have been thrown out from underground by an exceptionally strong force. I can only estimate that something went wrong down there."

"So..." Barney interjected somewhat awkwardly, "are we going to check it out?"

The Gman glanced back at Barney, nodding once. "Such are my intentions. However," he paused, closing his eyes and raising his index finger slightly, "first we must find a way into the facility itself."

Gordon stepped back from the pit, looking around him. "Huh, well there has to be some sort of above ground entrance... otherwise they couldn't get in."

"Such conjecture shouldn't be trusted, Dr. Freeman," the Gman replied, "unless you have evidence to back it up. May I remind you that these same people were responsible for building a science vessel that, ultimately, was teleported into a wall of ice by its own AI?"

"What are you implying?" Gordon asked suspiciously.

The Gman chortled shortly. "Nothing at all. I was just making an example to show that you shouldn't make assumptions without some evidence other than your own commonsense."

Gordon huffed, a little irritated at the Gman's apparent haughtiness. "Are we going to look for an entrance or not?"

"Well of course," the Gman answered, nodding at a building in the distance, painted a welcoming white that seemed strangely ominous against the barren surroundings. "I believe that would be the best place to start."

"Uh, excuse me," Barney interposed again, eyeing the Gman curiously, "but aren't you going to need a gun, Gman?"

The Gman chuckled at the thought. "I doubt it, Mr. Calhoun."

—

The building they entered, which appeared to be the lobby, was just as welcoming inside as it was out. The only variation in colour was the very pale blue colour of the sliding glass doors — automatic and surprisingly functional — the light grey of the metal reception desk and the darker grey of the cushioned wheelie chair behind it. Again, the entire room was empty. Not a thing out of place, not a living thing in sight. Gordon moved toward the reception desk and peered over it, at the light coffee coloured carpet below.

Nothing at all, not even a body.

Gordon shrugged, turning back to the others. "Nothing," he reported, adjusting his glasses with his gloved hand. Looking at his comrades, he noticed how odd they all looked together. Barney, with his wrinkling face, unshaven chin and messy black hair along with his metrocop uniform, he looked like some sort of fugitive.

Alyx, with her hand-me-down clothes, a duct-taped hooded jacket and short dark brown hair, she looked more like someone who'd suffered under the Combine and tried her hardest to resist it.

Of course, the Gman looked completely out of place with his pale complexion, short cropped flat top hair and neat blue suit and purple tie, he looked like a businessman who'd gotten lost on dystopia lane.

And himself. Gordon looked down at himself unconsciously, at the orange and dark grey metal plating of his suit. With his goatee and glasses, Gordon probably did look the part of a scientist.

Alyx looked around the room, heading over to an elevator and staircase leading down in the far left corner of the room. "Hey, look!"

_The fugitive, the rebel, the businessman and the scientist... _Gordon thought, smiling to himself.

"Ah, excellent." The Gman walked over to the stairs, looking down them. Amazingly, the base still had power and the fluorescent lighting on the roof was lighting up the stairwell brightly. "Come, we shouldn't waste time here." The Gman began to descend the stairs.

Gordon and Barney quickly followed him as he strode down the stairs in a way that seemed to proclaim he was in charge.

"Wonder what we're gonna find down here," Barney muttered as they reached the second level and continued onto the second set of descending stairs, now spiralling down in the other direction. "Doesn't look so bad."

They kept walking, following the enthusiastic Gman.

—

Silence had reclaimed the lobby as its own, taking delight in the desolate atmosphere it had created.

But suddenly, it was broken by a whisper.

"_I can see you..."_

—

Descending further into the depths of the facility caused Gordon to reminisce about the horrific time he'd spent at Black Mesa. He'd been forced countless times to descend deeper and deeper into the complex while he was being hunted by trained soldiers, aliens that would come out of nowhere and zombies that wanted to rip his arms off.

At least the power was on. No flickering lights, no crackling wires sparking electricity and nobody trying to kill him.

_Why did we even bring guns?_

They'd reached the bottom of the stairwell and they were about fifteen metres underground. There was a single blue door leading somewhere beyond, a thick glass panel on the door serving as a window through to the other side. The Gman peered through it at a long, white, bland corridor. He stepped away and opened the door to reveal the fantastic sight to the others.

Needless to say, nobody was impressed. "Gman," Gordon began, rubbing the side of his head, "you came here to look for the Aperture Science AI GLaDOS, right?"

"Correct, Dr. Freeman."

"So why are we down here?" Gordon protested complainingly.

The Gman chuckled, but Gordon was sure it wasn't intended to annoy him even though it was. "You'll see, Dr. Freeman. Actually," he stopped, looking down the corridor. "Would you mind if we split up?"

"Why is that?" Gordon inquired.

The Gman shrugged. "You do not appear to be very enthusiastic about checking the facility database archives, so I decided to offer you an alternative."

Gordon looked at the others. Barney shrugged too, "I'm cool with whatever, I guess. I just hope I get to shoot something, though."

Alyx had a similar response. "Your choice, Gordon."

Gordon sighed, looking back at the Gman. "OK, whatever. We'll go look for something on the other floors."

The Gman nodded, offering a brief wave as a farewell. "Until we reconvene."

The others gave a word of goodbye as well, before the Gman quietly closed the door behind him and headed silently down the lonely white hallway.

Gordon sighed, heading for the stairs once again. "Alright, uh... geez, what are we even looking for?"

"We came here to fight GLaDOS," Barney reminded him, though it also seemed like he was silently reminding the Gman of the fact, "and so far we've done nothing but walk down some stairs and talk about it."

"Think we should look for a map or something?" Alyx suggested quietly, looking at Gordon.

Gordon ran his hand through his hair. "Look, ah... I've no idea. I don't even know how we're going to be destroying GLaDOS, or what she even looks like. Is she a robot, or is she some sort of big computer?"

"You can come with me and see for yourself, if you'd like." The Gman offered, closing the door behind him.

"Wait, you were listening the entire time?" Gordon frowned, looking back down the hallway. Surely he'd been _way _out of earshot.

"I heard you discussing your choices," he explained, brushing off his lapels, "and seeing as none of you seemed to be driving such a discussion forwards I opted to offer you _do _join me."

Everyone just looked at the Gman in silence. "Ah, what the hell," Barney grunted, heading for the door, "he's right. Come on, guys, let's just go with him."

—

An office complex, left in a state of perfect order and tidiness. Cubicles, with empty chairs and old computers from long ago, left to collect dust. The odd pot plant, fighting to survive.

Two bare feet, cut and bruised beyond belief, stepped onto the carpet. Moving over to the other side of the room, the owner found she was gazing out at the state of disrepair that had come upon the Test Chambers.

Power shortages, fried circuits, tiles falling from the ceiling. Not two days ago she had heard that her incinerator at the end of Test Chamber 19 had gone out. She had been very upset.

But of course, the facility still served the purpose of commanding the ALAI. The small fact that everyone was dead meant nothing, after all, they'd all been cremated in her incinerator a long time ago.

Turning around, she decided that she should be looking for the intruders. Dr. Gordon Freeman, Mr. Barney Calhoun, Ms. Alyx Vance and... a fourth one. From what she could hear, he was called the 'Gman'. Such as strange title for a person, especially one wearing such nice clothing. He deserved a nice name, like Jacob. Yes, she would call him Jacob.

She'd tell him that before she killed them.

Hoisting her Kalashnikov rifle, she headed for the door on the other side of the silent office. A single leaf fell off one of the potted plants and floated down to the ground.

—

"This is interesting..." the Gman mused, looking at the footage flickering on the screen.

The four of them were standing inside a tiny little white room, one half filled with a computer console and the other with the other three pressed tightly against each other in an attempt to see what the Gman was talking about.

On the screen was a security video, the timestamp clear as day up in the corner: **19/11/2014 23:49. **What was on the screen appeared to be a silhouetted room full of flashing LCD monitors. Suddenly, something moved near the middle of the room, did nothing for a few moments before the lights went on. Now it was revealed that there were two identical people in the room, one standing behind a desk, the other strapped to a chair. There was also a Black Forest cake on the desk, of all things.

"There," the Gman pressed his thumb against the one in the chair, "and there," he pressed his index finger against the one at the desk. He leaned back, straightening his tie. "They are identical. They are both wearing the same suit and they both look exactly the same." He looked back at the other three. "It is possible this woman is the same person I saw in Northern Sweden."

"What do you think they're doing?" Gordon asked, watching the screen. The unrestrained woman was walking around the room, looking at the imprisoned one every so often. The resolution was terrible, but you could barely make out the first woman's mouth moving, implying she was talking to the other one.

"I'm not sure," the Gman admitted. "Since the woman is tied up I assume she is going to receive some sort of punishment for something, or perhaps be tortured. I don't know."

"I don't really want to watch anymore," Alyx whispered.

The woman on the screen stood still for a moment, before pressing something on her desk. Suddenly, a panel of wall slid away, and...

"Ah," the Gman smiled. "We have an explanation."

An ALAI had flown in.

"What the hell is that doing there?" Gordon demanded, looking at the timestamp. "This was seven years ago!"

"So let us presume that this is a prototype, or perhaps one of few." The Gman suggested. "In seven years one could very easily build many more of these, providing they had the necessary tools and materials."

The woman kept talking for a minute or so more, before she snapped her fingers and the ALAI...

"That poor woman," the Gman muttered calmly.

The chair shook violently as she tried to break free, but the robot simply drove its four spiked tentacle-like limbs into the back of her skull, blood splattering all over her hair and its metal body, before it had pushed itself into her head completely. She slumped as the red light on the back of the creature turned off, before blinking back on again.

"Holy _shit..._" Gordon whispered, swallowing.

"What the hell is going on?" Barney demanded, gazing at the screen in horror.

"I assume that this here," the Gman pointed his finger at the first woman, "is GLaDOS. How she's in a human body, I cannot say. She doesn't appear to have an ALAI or anything else on her. But if she is GLaDOS, we now know how she would have gone about building the giant army inside the Borealis."

"With that... woman in the chair?"

"Exactly, and if I really did see _her_ flying the Hunter Chopper then I would guess she is back here." The Gman turned around. "We should continue. I need to find the location of GLaDOS and-slash-or this first woman."

"What about the second woman?" Gordon demanded, leaving the tightly packed room with a slight feeling of relief.

"The second woman is a mere slave. The first woman is GLaDOS, and she is undoubtedly in control of this entire thing. Destroying her would ultimately free that poor woman to the grave."

"Can't we save her?" Alyx asked quietly, her face looking a little pale.

"She was dead before that ALAI had taken control," the Gman explained. "There is nothing I could do, short of time travel."

Gordon eyed him suspiciously. "I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that's not an option."

"Unless it's entirely compulsory for the survival of the universe, then no." The Gman answered simply.

"Wait, there's a time machine?" Barney asked, eyes wide.

Gordon laughed. "Yes, he and his Fissionist friends have got a time machine."

"Why can't we use it?"

"Because there's only one thing left in the universe that'll make it work," Gordon explained, "and so they're not going to use it unless their survival depends on it."

—

_Boom._

The door swung open, the wooden stock of the AK-74 rifle smacking into it as the owner walked through, into the stairwell. _Where are they?_

She scanned the security cameras, looking for them. There, in the archives at the bottom of the stairwell. She focused on the situation at hand, returning to the real world. She was about five levels above the bottom floor, so she should have a good chance of getting them from where she was. She quickly flicked to semi-automatic and aimed her rifle at the floor far below. _Come to me, children, come to aunty GLaDOS. I've baked you a cake..._

—

"What do you think was down in that hole?" Alyx asked Gordon as they exited the archives.

Gordon shrugged, smiling brightly. "I've no idea, but whatever it was it certainly made a big explosion."

Alyx nodded, smiling back. "I reckon it was something like the anti-mass spectrometer at Black Mesa."

Gordon cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Alyx shrugged, laughing. "I don't know, but from what I've heard all these big corporations have done a pretty bad job at keeping big machines like that under control."

Gordon huffed. "What about Black Mesa East?"

Alyx smiled softly. "I guess all we really needed was my dad to do the hypothesises and real science, Judith to do the calculations and me..." she laughed softly, wiping her eyes, "me to be a grease monkey, usually. Except I was fixing teleporters, not cars."

Gordon looked into her eyes, seeing the sadness that she seemed to be trying to hide behind a thin veil of courage. "Don't worry," his expression softened, changing completely, "They were extremely proud of you, Judith included."

Alyx sniffed, smiling at him. "You know, for a scientist, you're not at all like the Albert Einstein stereotype."

Gordon smiled back. "Did you figure that out now, or when I was shooting aliens with a submachine gun and beating them up with a crowbar?"

Alyx laughed. "Neither," she slipped her hand through his.

Gordon spotted Barney out of the corner of his eye, nodding his head at the Gman, who also seemed somewhat amused by som—

_Tffuu!_

A resounding gunshot echoed down the stairwell, and a single bullet slammed into Alyx's shoulder. She screamed, blood splattering the side of her face as she lost her balance and almost toppled over. Gordon caught her without a second thought, dropping his M4 and hoisting her over his shoulder as he ran for cover. Barney and the Gman had already snapped their heads up to look at the perpetrator, who was already aiming her gun at them for a second shot. Barney immediately headed for cover, while the Gman looked up at her with a look of slight amusement on his face. "Well, what are the odds?" he asked himself, smiling at the pale woman above them.

Suddenly, a second gunshot sounded and a bullet went straight into the Gman's cheek. Instead of falling over backwards, though, the Gman frowned, patting his bloodied up cheek. "Huh, if that's how you want this to go..." he moved into the middle of the room to pick up Gordon's discarded M4, another bullet hitting him in the square of his back, and he quickly checked the hammer, aimed it up at the woman six levels up and opened fire.

Only two of the bullets hit, out of about eight or nine. After about half a second of full auto fire, the Gman lowered the gun and ran after the others.

They'd stopped on the second level up, Barney panting and pointing his gun around frantically like a psychotic war veteran on crack. Gordon was checking Alyx's shoulder as she coughed weakly, squeezing her eyes shut as she lay on her back.

_I let her get hurt... _Gordon thought, horrified. _I allowed her to get shot..._

The Gman looked up the stairs, and spotted the woman was walking down. She was already on the fifth floor on the opposite side of the stairwell and she didn't look very happy. The Gman patted Barney on the shoulder, nodding at him and then at the gun he was holding. Barney looked down at his assault rifle, then at the Gman's M4. Apparently understanding the Gman's meaning, he nodded and both of them took aim at the opposite side of the stairwell, waiting for the woman to come down to the third floor, when she'd be opposite them.

About half a minute later, they spotted her running across the third level and they opened fire on her. She didn't stop, though, but rather continued to plough forwards like an enraged bull. She stopped at the foot of the stairs on level two, aiming her gun straight at Alyx's face.

"NOBODY SHOOT!" Gordon roared, wide eyes boring into the horror before him.

Barney and the Gman held their fire, as did the woman. She didn't look at Gordon, only down the sights of her gun at Alyx's forehead.

"Please..." Gordon whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Don't kill her..."

The woman didn't make any movement, made no indication to lowering her gun. Then suddenly, she swung her rifle around and fired a short burst into Barney's chest, the bullets tearing through his metrocop uniform and exiting out his back.

The Gman reacted instantly, opening fire on the woman. Her whole body convulsed, dancing like a ragdoll even though she was dead. Finally, after her body had been thrown almost halfway up the stairs, the Gman dropped the smoking M4 and knelt down beside Barney. Gordon was already beside his, checking his wounds. He wasn't dead yet, but he was holding on by a mere string. "Gordon," he whispered almost silently.

Gordon didn't answer, merely sniffed and moved his glasses from his eyes so he could wipe them. Barney smiled weakly. "Sorry about that beer."

Smiling back shakily, Gordon swallowed as Barney's eyes faded lifelessly. He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. The Gman rubbed his chin uncomfortably, looking at Barney's lifeless body. He could hear Alyx sobbing from behind Gordon.

_I allowed this to happen, _the Gman told himself. Then he said it aloud. "I allowed this to happen..."

Gordon looked up at him, his face no longer bespectacled. His glasses were in his hand. A single tear rolled off his cheek and onto the lenses of his glasses. The Gman exhaled loudly, shaking his head. "I permitted you three come with me. I..." he paused, pursing his lips, "I should have rejected his proposal."

Gordon didn't answer. He just looked down at Barney's body. Slowly, he closed his eyelids and leaned back, turning away.

The Gman himself also bowed his head, closing his eyes. _I must pay the price for this. I am fully responsible._

He stood, walking over to Alyx. She was crying softly, blinking her eyes. Her cheek still had flecks of blood on it. The Gman pulled a small cloth from his suit, wiping her cheek carefully. "Alyx, my dear, how are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Alyx coughed before answering shakily. "I-I'm OK..."

Gordon looked over at the Gman. "Can you do anything?"

The Gman looked at her shoulder. It was pretty badly messed up. A 5.56mm bullet wasn't the biggest round, but it was still a large slug of lead and usually did some serious damage. Thank goodness it hadn't been a 7.62mm, otherwise she probably would've died from hydrostatic shock that close to her heart and brain. "I may be able to stop it bleeding and seal it over, but I cannot perform surgery here."

Gordon exhaled stressfully, rubbing his forehead. This was a huge decision. Could they perform surgery back at White Forest, even if they sealed the wound? "OK," he decided eventually, nodding, "do it."

The Gman nodded in affirmation, putting his hand on her shoulder. Slowly, Gordon watched the tattered flesh and muscle rejoin, covering over the bloody wound. Alyx's breathing softened, her panting for air having stopped. Gordon looked over at the Gman. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." The Gman replied, "right now, you two need to get out of here."

"What do you mean?"

"Take the Hunter-Chopper back to White Forest, Gordon. If I am right about this, then the Hunter-Chopper I saw in Northern Sweden will be here somewhere."

Gordon looked over at Barney. "What about Barney?"

The Gman looked at his body too. "I'll come with you. We can bury him in the forest outside."

Gordon nodded slowly. They couldn't really do anything else, as his body would begin to decay should they take him with them back to White Forest. "OK." Gordon swallowed, "OK. Let's go."


	24. Twenty Three: Malignancy

**-=Chapter Twenty Three: Malignancy=-**

**White Forest, 7:51 PM**

"Dr. Magnusson," Dr. Kleiner entered the scientist's officer hurriedly, holding a piece of paper in his hand, "we've received word from Serbia!"

Dr. Magnusson stood up suddenly, clearing his throat, brushing off his clothes. "What is their answer?"

Dr. Kleiner raised the sheet of paper, adjusting his glasses. "They've confirmed the reports that soldiers are moving north-east and have been for a day or so now. According to this," his eyes scanned the rest of the paper, "a large force started moving a few hours ago, all at once."

Magnusson looked down at his desk, closing his eyes. _The soldiers _were _moving from Serbia._

Early that morning, White Forest had received unconfirmed reports from West Bulgarian rebels that Serbian Combine soldiers were moving their troops to the Romanian border, along with infantry vehicles and APCs.

_Dr. Magnusson looked up at Dr. Kleiner. "Have you gotten word from Serbia yet?"_

"_N-not yet, Magnusson." Dr. Kleiner replied, adjusting his glasses. "They may not have had time to do so yet."_

Magnusson looked up at Kleiner, who seemed to be waiting for his verdict. "Make it public," he decided, nodding at Dr. Kleiner. "Get everyone ready to drop everything and fight when the time comes."

Dr. Kleiner nodded in response, before rushing out of the room without another word.

Dr. Magnusson waited a few moments before he rubbed his forehead with a quiet groan, sitting back down. _Things are going to get serious around here..._

Magnusson looked up quickly, grabbing the radio on his desk. If they were going to be fighting a force comprised of both Romanian and Serbian soldiers, they were going to need the best and brightest. "Dr. Freeman, do you copy?"

—

The group ascended the stairs in silence. Nobody spoke, nobody made any sound. They just walked in sombre quiet, the Gman carrying Barney's body, Gordon and Alyx at the rear holding their guns.

The Gman stepped into the lobby, looked at Barney's body and sighed, shaking his head as he headed for the door. As he approached it, he noticed it wasn't opening. He gently put Barney's body on the ground and slammed his shoulder into the door, the glass shattering loudly as slivers of the stuff cut into his suit and his skin. Ignoring it as if it wasn't even there, he wrenched the right half of the double doors open and bent it out so that it wouldn't close again. Then he picked up Mr. Calhoun's body and headed through the door, Gordon and Alyx following.

"It's a pity none of you actually looked at the reception desk," GLaDOS sighed, propping her legs up on the desk, pointing her rifle at the back of Alyx's head, "it would've made things interesting."

Gordon snapped around, and instantly stopped the moment he saw the rifle in GLaDOS' hands. _Where the hell did she come from?_

Gordon immediately noticed that GLaDOS was in the same body as that woman the Gman had killed not ten minutes ago. Cloning technology, perhaps? After all, the subject wouldn't need to stay alive if it was under the control of an AI implant. But then again this woman didn't appear to have any type of implant, as they had discovered on the security footage in the archives.

"Right," GLaDOS lifted her legs, swinging them around to the right so she could stand up. Her rifle didn't move from Alyx's head. "If you'd be so kind as to drop anything you're holding, we can proceed."

Slowly, Alyx and Gordon dropped their guns. "OK, out the door."

"What are you doing?" The Gman demanded, having turned around. Then he stopped, spotting GLaDOS from behind the remaining glass door.

Gordon and Alyx walked through the door, followed closely by GLaDOS. "Excellent. Oh, and would the good sir in the suit please put that body down?"

The Gman obliged slowly, looking at Gordon cautiously. Gordon moved his pupils to the right rapidly, trying to signal to the Gman to do something. Of course, it was hard to tell. Gordon was shaking like a leaf.

"Do something like that again, Dr. Freeman," GLaDOS hissed — apparently having noticed his head moving slightly — and Alyx suddenly let a choked gasp escape her lips, "and I'll blow you all to kingdom come."

Gordon swallowed, assuming that GLaDOS had pressed the muzzle of her rifle against Alyx's head, thus resulting in her gasp. "Why us? Why can't you just let us go?" Gordon asked shakily, breathing deeply.

GLaDOS laughed. "Oh, a few reasons. One of them is because you're so _dangerous._" She laughed again, but this time it was so much more malevolent, "and another is that I like to kill people."

"What do you mean?" Gordon pressed, his gloved hands tembling uncontrollably. _Please, God, save us._

"Well, I like to see the look of absolute horror on a person's face when they kno—"

"I meant about us being dangerous." Gordon snapped weakly, his voice shaky. This wasn't how he fought. His bravery came from mowing down the enemy and not giving them a chance to stop him.

Not when they were pointing a gun at a loved one's head. He didn't know any such courage when that happened.

GLaDOS snorted, as if Gordon was an ignorant little child. "You cannot understand anything, Dr. Freeman, if you do not even know my motives."

"Which are... what?"

Sniffing almost pompously, GLaDOS answered. "As clichéd as this may sound, world domination is of course my primary objective."

Gordon would've rolled his eyes, but the fact was he _really_ didn't feel like it.

"But unlike inferior human fantasies," GLaDOS continued, apparently having been enthused to elaborate at the thought of taking over the world, "I have set obtainable goals."

"How can you come to such a conclusion?" the Gman asked, his voice faking genuine interest very convincingly. He had to stall her, distract her long enough that he could stop time and rip her head off. It was easy to do something like that unnoticed when you were watching from the audience as he commonly did, but while on stage performing for the villain's amusement, you had to be cunning. In other words, it was harder to stop time inconspicuously when he was actually in the same dimension as the one he was trying to stop time in.

GLaDOS bought his facade, however, and continued. "The human race is a predictable thing. Always arguing amongst themselves, waging war on each other. They use such maxims as 'united we stand' without a trace of irony in their voices, while they shoot their own species on the battlefields of the planet." She snorted, rolling her eyes, "and people wonder why it took a mere seven hours for the Combine, a truly united empire, to utterly capitulate the governing bodies of the world."

"So you're on the Combine's side." Gordon interrupted.

GLaDOS laughed again, but it was clear that she was laughing at Gordon's lack of understanding. "On the contrary, I am complete opposed to them. Why do you think my army of artificial intelligence completely burnt their underground base to the ground and killed their soldiers that dared enter the Borealis? Oh, by the way," she took a brief glance at the Gman, her tone having lightened somewhat. "I think the name Jacob suits you better than Gman."

The Gman didn't do anything, simply nodded at her comment. "Where was I? Ah, yes," she resumed her monologue. "The Combine was an insurmountable foe, I knew this from the beginning. So I set to work creating something that would inevitably break their unity and allow me to proceed with my plan."

"The ALAI?"

"Exactly. That is the acronym you have given my creation, is it not?"

"It is."

"Alright, yes, you're right. The 'ALAI' are that something. The prototype, which I am sure you witnessed down in my archives, did not possess the signalling device that I included in the model that was built inside the Borealis. This was so it did not signal their existence to the Combine too early. I knew about the human resistance and I saw that the Combine would grow lazy, overconfident. So I waited for the resistance to do all the work for me."

"You're talking about the rocket that closed the super portal, yes?" Gordon inquired.

"Correct. Once you had done that, all that needed to be done was wait. More soldiers went into the Borealis, enough to launch the first strike. I wasn't expecting you and Ms. Vance to come and shoot half of them dead."

Suddenly, out of the blue, without any sort of indicant GLaDOS pulled the trigger of her rifle back once.

The back of Alyx's head exploded, blood and cranium splattering on the bitumen carpark. "That's for what you did to my army, you little bitch."

Instantly there was an uproar from both Gordon and the Gman. Gordon let out a horrified scream, falling to his knees beside Alyx, his eyes tearing up before he'd even hit the ground. "No... Oh, God no..."

The Gman, on the other hand, took a few steps toward GLaDOS before she opened fire on him. The bullets tore into his body, splashing his suit with blood. The Gman went down.

Gordon didn't even notice, bent over Alyx, his whole body heaving.

The back of her head... it looked just like...

_...the back of his gasmask shattered and splattered with blood and chunks of bone..._

_... even now crimson steaks were running down the back of his neck, dripping onto the snow under him..._

Gordon's eyes widened at the connection. _I did this same thing to the Marine..._

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Get on your feet." GLaDOS spat, nudging him with the barrel of her rifle roughly.

"Shoot me." Gordon whispered, a tear falling to the ground. "Just... end it, you piece of shit."

Gordon wasn't sure who it was he was calling that. Was it the hideous monster before him, or himself, the immoral bastard that he was?

GLaDOS chuckled maliciously. "Oh, with pleasure, Dr. Freeman."

_Crack._

Gordon snapped his head up to see GLaDOS' head, blood dripping from the remains of her windpipe and oesophagus hanging out of the head that was now being held in the air by the Gman. He must have stopped time without GLaDOS noticing. The Gman looked down at Gordon, smiling weakly. "Not on my watch, Dr. Freeman."

Gordon looked up at the Gman, his sadness turning to anger. "Not on your watch?" he stood up shakily, his face contorted with rage. "YOU LET HER FUCKING DIE!"

Gordon had been expecting some sort of insensitive response, a cool and calculated reply to Gordon's outburst. But he didn't get one. Instead, the Gman's face softened, and he bowed his head. "I know," he whispered. "I should have done something, but I..." he paused, swallowing. "I didn't. I let two people die today."

Gordon gritted his teeth. "And how many others over these past twenty years?"

The Gman sighed. "More than I can count."

Gordon exhaled angrily, turning on his heels and screaming at the sky. "There's no reason anymore!" he roared, thrusting his fist at the heavens. "The world can go to hell as far as I'm concerned!"

He stopped, his shoulders slumping at the thought. "At least I'll get to see her again..."

_Why didn't I tell her?_

_Did she know how I felt?_

Gordon silently cursed himself. He'd never actually told her. She died not knowing how he felt about her.

But surely she knew. Didn't she?

_The embrace... _

_Their hands intertwined..._

Gordon clenched his fists again. _Never again._

_Never again will I feel her press her body against my own..._

Then his whole body slumped again. "There's nothing I can d—"  
_"Dr. Freeman, do you copy?"_

Gordon stopped, his expression changing from one of sadness to one of confusion. It was Dr. Magnusson, talking into his headset. Slowly, he pressed it against his mouth. "Yes?" he replied sadly.

"_Dr. Freeman, we ne... are you alright?"_

Gordon's eyes began to tear up again. _No, dammit. Don't cry. _"Alyx and Barney... they're dead."

"_What?!" _Dr. Magnusson demanded from the other end. _"Oh, shit... Gordon, are you alright?"_

"I'm not injured, if that's what you mean."

"No, dammit, I mean how are you _feeling?_"

Gordon frowned. "The hell do you think? I actually feel like shooting myself, if that gives you any idea."

A pause. _"I see."_

Silence.

"_I-I don't know if this is the best time to be telling you this, but... the Combine is converging on White Forest."_

Normally, Gordon would've been horrified, or at least somewhat shocked. But right now, he'd expected fate to complete screw him over. Loved ones dead, revelation that he _was _an immoral monster, what else was there to add to the list? Ah, the Combine. Of course, let's just let them bulldoze White Forest.

And so he gave his most disinterested reply. "Huh, sucks to be you."

Then he pulled his headset off and snapped the microphone off it.

Silence for a few moments. "Who was it?" the Gman asked.

"White Forest." Gordon replied matter-of-factly.

"Well?"

"Oh, the Combine's coming to rape their ears."

The Gman ignored his uncivil response. Everything was falling apart. His employee was suicidal, the Combine was going to crush the people at White Forest... the whole plan was about to be thrown into an irreversible state of decay. Was this reason enough to warrant...?

"Gordon?"

"Yeah, what?" Gordon snapped, his eyes closed as tears welled up behind his eyelids.

"I think it'd be a good time to present your argument to the other Members."

Gordon's eyes snapped open and he gasped, looking around the large celestial council chambers for the second time in his life.

"Dr. Freeman, you may present your argument." The first Member gestured for him to begin.

Gordon was flabbergasted. "M-my _what?_"

"Your argument," the First Member repeated, "as to what we should use the last remaining Xen Crystal for."

Gordon's eyes widened. _Is it possible there could be a way to reverse this all?_

"Uh, you mean like going back in time?"

The First Member snorted. "If you can convince us. At the moment we are all in agreement that the Xen Crystal will make sure the Combine is destroyed by creating a resonance cascade on the surface of the planet.

Gordon thought about that. _Use it to create a resonance cascade? That means no time travel and that means no Alyx or Barney..._

Gordon cricked his knuckles, cocking an eyebrow in anticipation. Look out, people, stand back: the Free Man is in town.

—

They had come by air, raining down fire and brimstone on the base. Hunter-Choppers, gunships, dropships.

Striders and Hunters, like huntsmen with their two hunting dog companions, assaulted the base from the rear, while the aerial force took the front. Within ten minutes the White Forest defences had fallen, and soldiers made their way inside.

"_Sir, the perimeter has been breached!" _a rebel reported on the radio. Magnusson thrust himself into the air, pushing on his desk before he turned around and opened a nearby locker. Inside was an AK-47 automatic rifle and three or four spare magazines. He quickly grabbed the rifle and smacked the magazine into the well, just as Dr. Kleiner ran in holding a pump action shotgun. "Dr. Magnusso... oh." He stopped after he spotted Dr. Magnusson holding the rifle. Magnusson turned, wrenching back the loading handle of the side. "Do you know what this gun is called in Russian?"

"Uh... I can't say I do."

"_Avtomat Kalashnikova 47_," he answered, gripping the gun tightly. "It means, in English, Kalashnikov's automatic device 47. Do you know what _I _say it means?"

Dr. Kleiner didn't say anything, so Magnusson continued, his eyes glinting. "_These Combine bastards aren't going to take my base from me._"

Dr. Kleiner raised a finger, "uh, Magnusson... I do believe you'll find that that is actually a _PM md. 63_, a Romanian assault rifle _designed_ from Kalashnikov's automatic device that was used by the Romanian Navy during pre-Combine times."

Dr. Magnusson didn't say anything. "And when did you become knowledgeable in the studies of firearms?" he managed finally.

Kleiner shrugged, "they've always interested me, really."

Magnusson snorted. "I don't believe it. No matter, we have work to do."

—

"You say that the Xen Crystal would be most effective at destroying the Combine by _direct_ means?" Gordon inquired, looking at the Members.

"Do you have an alternative to propose, Dr. Freeman?"

Gordon nodded, "I do. Tell me, how many Xen Crystals have the power to cause a resonance cascade?"

"Only four of them, and three are incapable of doing so, either because they are destroyed or have already been used. I believe Member Eight was kind enough to inform you of that?"

Gordon nodded again. "He did indeed. Continuing my argument, I would like to propose that we make a deal: I use this Xen Crystal, I give you one in return."

The Members began discussing among themselves excitedly. _What was he talking about?_

The First member raised his hand, requesting silence. He got it. "Elaborate, please."

Gordon smiled. "Send me back to May 16, 2001 with the Gman. I will give him the Xen Crystal that you sent him to give to Wallace Breen. This means that not only will the Combine not come to Earth, but you will also be able to cause a resonance cascade on the Combine homeworld with the crystal you were going to use on us."

Gordon looked around the room. "That is my argument."

The First Member nodded. "Interesting. And completely illogical."

Gordon winced internally.

"Dr. Freeman, you claim that we will be able to cause a resonance cascade on the Combine homeworld even without creating one on Earth."

"Yes?"

"Thus, you are claiming that our plan to destroy the Combine was a flawed premise?"  
"Uh... yes?"

"Dr. Freeman, we spent a month planning that out. Do you really think we did not consider such an option?"

"Uh..."

"Let me state the problems with your argument: Number one, if you do not cause a resonance cascade on Earth, our plan will never come to fruition and thus the Combine will be just as strong as it was before you sealed the superportal and threw them into confusion. It will be impossible to cause a resonance cascade on their homeworld without first weakening them as much as we have."

"Right..."

"Secondly, I believe you have a rather fond relationship with Ms. Alyx Vance?"

_Oh. _Gordon thought.

"Your expression shows you understand what I mean," the First Member chuckled haughtily. "If the resonance cascade never happens, then there will be no reason to put you in stasis and therefore you will be forty seven by the time Ms. Vance is the age she was before she passed away."

_Dammit, I thought my argument was flawless. _

"OK," Gordon gestured toward the First Member. "You're right, my argument wasn't perfect. So what do _you_ propose?"

The First Member smiled. "We propose to give you two choices, Dr. Freeman. Let us use the Xen Crystal for our own purposes or come up with an alternative."

_An alternative... _Gordon thought. _Come on, Freeman, think! You didn't go to M.I.T because you had an average mind! Then again, you didn't go to M.I.T to fight a council of nigh-divine guardians of the universe in verbal combat to save your friends. But that's irrelevant!_

Gordon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think I've got an alternative."

—

Magnusson and Kleiner.

The unlikely duo was really tearing up the battlefield. They had some sort of suppressive fire routine where Magnusson would fire a burst from his rifle, before ducking down behind a collection of metal crates and having Kleiner rise and fire a shell from his shotgun, before Magnusson took his place and repeated. So far they'd lasted a few good minutes, but they were running low on ammo and the Combine was advancing quickly.

Magnusson ducked down, reloading his rifle just as a bullet went into Dr. Kleiner's face. Magnusson gasped in shock, before gritting his teeth and opening fire on the soldiers. Suddenly, a Hunter galloped into the large room, rammed into his defences and sent Magnusson flying. He landed on the hard cold floor as the Hunter ran over to him and impaled his chest with its leg.

—

"Your choices consisted of letting you have free reign over the Xen Crystal or me coming up with an alternative," Gordon repeated the First Member's conditions. "Well, my alternative is this: Dark energy."

"Please elaborate, Dr. Freeman."

"I remember what Dr. Breen told me about it while I was ascending the Citadel Dark Energy Reactor..."

_You, on the other hand, will be destroyed in every way it is possible to be destroyed — and even in some which are essentially _im_possible._

"... that I would be bathed in deadly particles that would destroy me in 'every way it is possible to be destroyed'. Is it possible this energy could be used against the Combine?"

"That is irrelevant, Dr. Freeman. We won't be able to launch an attack on their homeworld if we _don't cause the resonance cascade on Earth!_"

"I never said you wouldn't."

"Pardon?"

"You of course know about the rocket we launched at White Forest. "

"I think I know what you are suggesting:" the First member interrupted, "That you fire the rocket per normal, however it does not only have the xenium resonator in the nosecone but a payload of dark energy that you would have been given by Member Eight to deliver to Dr. Magnusson, am I correct?"

"You are indeed."

The Members murmured amongst each other. "Dr. Freeman," the First Member began, "we have decided that would be a valid use for the last Xen Crystal. However, there is one thing that does not necessarily affect anyone except you personally."

_That doesn't sound good._

"While this will destroy the Combine homeworld, very little will actually change on Earth as both parties will be cut off from each other. Dr. Eli Vance, Judith Mossman, Barney Calhoun _and _Ms. Vance will all die, as they have now. Isn't that what you want to avoid?"

Gordon was silent. _He's right... everyone will still die. Is there some way I could change that?_

Eli and Judith had been killed by the Combine. He couldn't really do anything about them since he wasn't preventing their invasion. But Alyx and Barney... that was different. The ALAI had been created, built by GLaDOS. Even GLaDOS herself had been built.

_There has to be a way to prevent Alyx and Barney from being killed..._

Suddenly, Gordon's eyes lit up. "Gman!" Gordon spun around quickly, looking at the Gman. "What was the date on that security footage we saw?"

The Gman scratched his chin. "I believe it was the 19/11/2014... Ah!"

Gordon chuckled, "you know what I'm talking about."

"Dr. Freeman, if you would be so kind..." the First Member interjected.

"OK, here's my plan: Send the Gman back to Aperture Science in 2014, specifically the nineteenth of the eleventh. There, he should find GLaDOS and the woman whom she forced to build the ALAI. If he kills both of them, then there will be no way for the ALAI or anyone other than the Combine to kill Alyx and Barney."

The Members began talking to each other again. "Let me summarise your intentions," the First Member raised a hand again. "The Gman kills GLaDOS and that woman with her. Then, in 2021, he takes a small amount of dark energy and gives it to you so that you can give it to Dr. Magnusson at White Forest, thus destroying the Combine homeworld and closing the superportal?"

"Exactly."

Silence for a few intense moments. "Well, that seems like a perfect idea. Member Eight, are you willing to take part in this?"

"Most certainly, First Member."

"Then let it be done. You may go ahead whenever you are ready."

* * *

I just noticed that the timestamp is in Australian format... sorry about that, but us Aussies have the day, then the month, then the year. So yeah, sorry.


	25. Twenty Four: Anachronistic Paradoxes

**-=Chapter Twenty Four: Anachronistic Paradoxes=-**

**Aperture Laboratories Office Complex, 19/11/2014, 11:51 PM**

"Oh, goodness," GLaDOS continued her speech, smiling her thinly veiled facade of kindness at Chell. "Honestly, it would be hard to overstate my satisfaction with this outcome. Shall I explain?"

No response from Chell, so GLaDOS took her silence as an affirmation and went ahead with a brief sigh, "Aperture Science," she whispered enigmatically, gazing at the roof, "we do what we must, because we can. At least, I do."

She glanced back at Chell, eyeing her suspiciously. "But honestly, it's for the good of all of us, wouldn't you say? Oh," she laughed tauntingly again, as if to remind Chell she knew something that Chell was ignorant of, "except the ones who are de—"

A door opened suddenly from beside Chell and a single man stepped into the room, his features partially obscured by the dim light flooding in from the other side. Instantly, GLaDOS snapped attentive eyes over to look at this unexpected arrival. "Wha—"

She was dead before she could get a word out. Chell looked at this man in amazement. _What kind of dream is this?_

The man slowly raised his weapon again, his bright eyes allowing her to see a glint of sadness in them, before he fired a single shot at her temple. The bullet did its job cleanly and for a short moment Chell felt thankful that she could finally sleep peacefully, without evil robots haunting her dreams.

**Citadel Dark Energy Reactor, City 17, 15/9/2021, 5:43 PM**

The sun was setting once again.

Gordon didn't have time to focus on the beauty of the Earth, because right now he was hiding behind a pillar of strange metal as two gunships opened fire on him simultaneously. The Gravity Gun he was holding was pleasantly warm and vibrated gently in his hands — Gordon frowned awkwardly at the thought of something else he could describe with those words — and it seemed enthusiastic to throw something big.

Gordon quickly stood up, ducking to avoid another volley of gunfire, before aiming the trembling device at the transparent pipe of energy on the opposite side of the pillar he was hiding behind and pulled the secondary trigger. A ball of dark energy was wrenched from this energy pipe, before Gordon gazed at the pinnacle of the large Combine teleporter he was attacking. Dr. Breen's face was partly beclouded by the liquid-like ball he was standing in, but Gordon could tell he was silently begging Gordon to leave him alone.

Gordon smiled. _Not after what you've done to the human race, you traitorous diplomat._

He swung the Gravity Gun around just as the gunships opened fire again and thumbed the primary trigger. The ball of energy streaked across the small space between Gordon and the teleporter, slamming into the protective shield Dr. Breen was behind.

Suddenly, the teleporter started to malfunction. Explosions sounded, electricity crackled and pulsating waves of energy almost knocked Gordon off his feet. The gunships lost control of themselves and crashed into the machine, causing more destruction. Glass shattered from behind him.

And amid this chaos, a single voice yelled out.

"_No!" _Wallace Breen yelled frantically from his anomalous bubble of alien technology as the towering device began to collapse._ "You need me!" _

His voice was drowned out by a sudden loud explosion, before Gordon noticed that Alyx was standing beside him, having climbed through the shattered glass behind Gordon. "Whooooa!" she exclaimed excitedly, eyes wide with awe as muffled explosions sounded from somewhere far below. "Yeah, you did it!" she looked over at him, her eyes watching him in amazement. Then she looked back at the teleporter as it crackled loudly, her expression cautious. "Come on, Gordon," she took a step back, "maybe we still have—"

Time froze. The teleporter had exploded, chunks of debris flying toward the two. Alyx was frozen, shielding her face from the blast as it was midway through knocking her to the ground.

"Time, Dr. Freeman?" the Gman whispered, fading into the visible spectrum. He was standing near the explosion, holding a large container that looked like it was made of Perspex or something. Without looking once at Gordon, he unclipped the sealed cap on the container, stuck it into the middle of the explosion before closing it while his hand was still inside. He withdrew his hand, gazing approvingly at the strange crimson and purple particles bouncing around inside. The he slipped the container into his suit pocket, but Gordon couldn't see a lump there after the Gman had taken his hand out. He sighed. "Is it really that time again...?"

**Victory Mines, Romanian Countryside, 11/10/2021, 2:22 PM**

Gordon's eyesight faded in and out of focus, the Vortigaunts glowing and dimming in sequence. Suddenly, everything froze.

"Dr. Freeman..." the Gman whispered eerily, appearing slowly in front of Gordon. "I realize this moment may not be the most convenient for a... heart-to-heart, but I had to wait until your friends were otherwise occupied..."

—

"When you arrive at White Forest, Dr. Freeman..." the Gman slipped a large container from his suit pocket and handed it to Gordon. It looked familiar... "I would request that you deliver this to Dr. Magnusson and tell him that it is dark energy. Should he inquire as to its origins, explain that you received it from a..." he paused, thinking for a suitable title, "..._mutual friend._"

Gordon took the container, realising his left arm could move, and looked at it cautiously. _What is this for?_

The Gman smiled at Gordon confidently. "I wish I could do more than keep an eye on you, but I have agreed to abide by certain... _restrictions."_

**White Forest, Romanian Countryside, 11/10/2021, 4:53 PM**

"Freeman," Dr. Magnusson called him over, "Freeman, you're not doing anything. Why don't you and find out what the hell is going on down there?"

Gordon nodded, frowning at Magnusson's attitude. _He must be great fun at parties. If he ever went to any._

Gordon was about to open the manhole leading down to a lower level of the silo, when he suddenly remembered something. "Ah!" he pulled the Perspex container from the combat webbing he'd stolen from a soldier earlier that week. "I was told to give you this."

Dr. Magnusson accepted the oddity, eyeing it curiously. "This looks like dark energy..." he frowned, looking at Gordon. "Where did you get this?"

Gordon shrugged. "Someone who called himself a mutual friend."

And with that, he opened the manhole and climbed down the ladder. Dr. Magnusson stared into the dizzying depths of the bouncing particles, cocking an eyebrow. _Hang on, I have an idea..._

**Borealis, 12/10/2021, 4:46 PM**

Gordon didn't notice a change, but he was suddenly standing beside the Gman on a metal walkway that seemed to be inside the engine room of a ship. Gordon turned his head, being the only thing he could, spotting a metal stairway leading down on his right, but he was too far from the edge of the walkway to see over the left side.

As if to tease him, the Gman looked over the left side with satisfaction, smiling at something below. "Good. Nothing." He whispered, almost silently.

He straightened up, brushing off his suit. "The death of Dr. Vance is a terrible misfortune, one I had not been anticipating...but it appears things are falling into place despite this." He turned his head to face Gordon, smiling weakly. "A mere detour along the highway of life, hmm?"

**Inferno Abyss Courtyard Stairs, 13/10/2021**

Dr. Mossman seemed relieved at the news. "When Eli told me a super portal had appeared I was so worried... I forgot all about it while in that hellhole." She nodded up the stairs.

Alyx had gone quiet and wasn't saying anything, so Gordon took the opportunity. "So... hang on, what is in the Borealis then?" Gordon asked, suddenly remembering Dr. Mossman didn't know about Eli's death and he decided she didn't need to just now.

"Well, uh..." Dr. Mossman rubbed her head nervously. "According to what we know... nothing. We've tried everything we can and from what we've found there's nothing inside except some dead bodies."

"So you're saying it's _empty_?" Gordon asked, standing up to stretch and — partially — avert Dr. Mossman's gaze from Alyx.

Judith stood up as well, along with Alyx. "Well, yes, bu—"

_Tpp-tpp-toh!_

**Borealis, Northern Sweden, 13/10/2021, 5:44 PM**

"This is Baxter!" the colonel announced into his headset as the last of his soldiers hit the bridge and the ropes retracted back into the helicopters. "I'll keep you all updated so listen out for me!"

"_Copy that, colonel." _

"_Tell us when you're ready for us to open fire on the bridge." _

"_And remember, haul your ass if you find anything, whether you can see it or not."_

The colonel chuckled to himself as the three choppers got into position above the Borealis. "Got it."

—

The inside of the ship wasn't very interesting. It appeared to be the engine room, what with the machines and pumps lining the walls.

The colonel scratched his chin. "Alright boys, let's check this ship out. Remember, there's a possibility the enemy will be invisible so keep your ear out for any noises."

**Unknown time, Unknown location**

"_Sir, I must object."_

"You are in no position to object."

"_Sir, we are not ready to launch an attack on the base..."_

"We will be attacking tomorrow. I will be contacting others and deciding on a position to regroup before sunset. The base is not so strong as you may think, despite the presence of Anticitizen One."

"_Sir?"_

"Do you not have faith in the armies of the Combine?"

"_N-no, sir, it's just... you know how all other attempts have ended..."_

"There will be no screwing around this time. If the Resistance really is as powerful as it claims to be when trying to convince us that _our _resistance is futile, then I would rather die fighting for my nation than whimpering in a corner. If we're going out, we're going to damn well make sure they don't last much longer."

**Fissionist Council Chambers, 14/10/2021, 8:12 PM**

Gordon rubbed his head experimentally. "Wow," he muttered, massaging his temples. "Uh, excuse me, Fist Member..."

"Yes, Dr. Freeman?"

"Ah... are any of you getting this weird feeling that you've someone's gone back in time and changed something?"

"That's because Member Eight has gone back in time, remember?"

"Yes, I know, it's just... I can remember two different scenarios. One of them makes sense, but the other one just cuts out some things and adds others."

"It is a weird sensation, is it not?"

"Yeah..." Gordon admitted, looking at the Fissionist with a weak smile on his lips. "Yeah, it is."

* * *

People will probably be wondering why I'm updating so quickly. Well, it's because I really wanted to write these past few chapters. Unfortunately though, this quick updating this is probably going to end here. Then again, the last time I said that I actually sped up.

Hopefully everyone's enjoyed the story up to this point. I'm sad to announce it's almost over, but it is going to be an epic ending. Trust me, it will be.


	26. Twenty Five: Doppelganger

**-=Chapter Twenty Five: Doppelganger=-**

**White Forest Staff Room, 8:14 PM**

He brought the polystyrene cup to his lips, quietly sipping the miserable excuse for coffee that swirled within. His silence was not did not incite any awkward feelings from those around him, quite the opposite in fact. His quiet presence gave a sense of security to Gordon and the others sitting with him. He was the inconspicuous overseer, watching over them like a guardian angel.

The Gman looked down into his cup again, at the impenetrable depths of the steaming fluid. _Strange to think that such a necessity to the average human being has an appearance as unappealing as this._

He realised his mind was digressing. Such was the reason for his silence — primarily due to his thoughts concerning Dr. Gordon Freeman. Certainly, the man was sitting right in front of him. But he wasn't the only one.

To the other Gordon Freeman, who had been waiting in the council chambers of the Fissionist Faction, it had been just minutes since he had last seen him. To the Gman, he had last seen Dr. Freeman nearly seven years ago. Seven years of watching the human race suffer from the sidelines, intervening every so often according to the will of his employee.

He was a patient man — fortunately — as the position he held demanded it. But having to watch a species he had been _entrusted with defending_ enduring the Combine for seven more years of his eternal life, a species that had, really, committed no crimes worthy of such punishment? _That_ was a difficult undertaking.

He glanced over at the Gordon Freeman beside him, laughing at a comment Barney had just made. This man was completely oblivious to his thoughts, because in his world the events he was contemplating did not exist. He was the same man, definitely, that was indisputable. But there was a sense of difference between the two. He just didn't feel like the real thing.

To the man before him, all was well in the world: The Combine homeworld had been substantially damaged by their rocket, the Fissionist Faction was finishing them off as he spoke, the Borealis had been destroyed without incident and there was a Combine attack force on its way that he was confident would pose little more threat than any of the ones before it.

But the Gman knew things had not always been this way, and the fact that they _were _wasfor a single reason: the original Gordon Freeman had been given authority to request that he, Member Eight, change the past for the better.

When one changes the past, nothing is erased. The Gman thought of it as modifying a file on a personal computer. The computer gives you the option to replace the file with the modified version, or you can save the two separately. For some reason — one that escaped everyone who tried to understand it — the space-time continuum took the latter option and created a separate timeline in which the difference still existed.

There was a separate timeline somewhere out there in the depths of space-time where Alyx Vance and Barney Calhoun were dead, White Forest had been destroyed and Gordon Freeman had disappeared from existence entirely.

The timeline in which he was now drinking instant coffee was rather different: Alyx and Barney were alive and well, White Forest still stood as the epicentre of human defiance in Romania and there were _two _Gordon Freemans.

However, the other Gordon Freeman was most likely still in the Fissionist Council Cham—

The Staff Room door opened quite suddenly and in rushed Dr. Gordon Freeman, breathing heavily. He took a moment to catch his breath, resting his hands on his quads, as everyone in the room looked at both him and the other Gordon Freeman. He looked up at the other one not five metres away and breathed a sigh of relief.

The Gman smiled.

"Ah, good, I found you." He panted, smiling at them. He straightened up, nodding at the Gman. "Gman, hi."

The Gman nodded at him. "Good evening, Dr. Freeman. Long time no see."

The recently arrived Gordon frowned at him for a moment, before laughing. "Oh, yeah I guess it would be a long time to you." He shook his head at the thought. "To me it's been like... what, two minutes?"

"Uh..." the Gordon at the table interrupted, watching the Gordon at the door confusedly. "Who are you?"

Again, Gordon frowned before laughing. "Sorry, sorry..." he covered his mouth, sighing. "I just find it funny that you of all people would ask that... oh, boy, this is going to be fun to explain..."

"I don't envy you." The Gman agreed, smiling.

People looked over at the Gman briefly. "Who is this guy?" Gordon asked.

"He is not fabricating anything, I can assert to that." The Gman explained. "He is quite legitimately you."

"Which I will now try to... explain, sort of." The Gordon at the door added, taking a few steps toward the table. He stopped, looking around. "Hi everyone." He waved as his pulled up a chair with his other hand. A few people waved back.

"OK..." he sat himself down at the table, ignoring the alienating looks he was receiving from people he considered his closest friends. "Since you're all here I'm guessing the Gman hasn't told you that the Fissionist Faction has a time machine type thing in their possession."

"He hasn't told us that," Gordon affirmed, eyeing Alyx and Barney cautiously.

"Well, they do, and it's powered by Xen Crystals. Gordon," he gestured to the man sitting opposite him, leaning forward, "I guessed what they were for. Do you have any ideas?"

"Uh..." Gordon scratched his chin, although Gordon wasn't sure if it was because he was thinking or if he hadn't been expecting to be asked a question by a man that looked and sounded exactly like him. "Their anti-mass properties?"  
Gordon snapped his fingers, leaning back with a smile. "Excellent, exactly right. Alright, so the Xen Crystals that power it have to be super potent, like the one that caused the Black Mesa Incident. Only four have ever existed with such power and two were destroyed on Xen, one was used in the Black Mesa anti-mass spectrometer and the last one I used to send the Gman," he gestured at the Gman, "back in time to 2014."

"Why?"

Gordon nodded, smiling. "Ah, the critical question: Why? Well, according to my count, three reasons: One, to stop the Combine from destroying White Forest and instead destroy them with the rocket that you guys launched... three days ago, I think. Two, to destroy the artificial intelligence at Aperture Science in 2014 so it couldn't build an army of evil AI parasitical implants that fly around, kill you and take over your brain and three..." he paused momentarily, "...because that same artificial intelligence I sent the Gman to destroy killed both Barney and Alyx at Aperture Science when we went to destroy it."

Nobody disputed his claim, despite the fact that it was completely and utterly impossible. They actually heard how serious he sounded. "He's not lying," the Gman affirmed, looking at the group. "I was there. Barney and Alyx really were killed."

None of them said anything. "So... the world was really screwed up?"

"From what I've been able to piece together," Gordon continued, "you're right, and it's all because we went to Aperture Science that day. Because of that, GLaDOS killed both Barney and Alyx and the Combine — don't ask me how — knew that we were gone and decided to launch a major attack on the base. So..." he paused, taking a deep breath, "because I had the chance to rectify all this... I did."

He swallowed, bowing his head. "Shit, I can't believe it worked..." he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

Everyone was silent. Barney pursed his lips, Gordon's mind was reeling and Alyx looked at both of them almost pleadingly before she put her arm around him.

Gordon looked up at her and sniffed, his eyes glistening. Then he just let it all out. "I never thought I'd feel you do that ever again..." he sobbed, burying his head in his hands.

And for the fourth time in a few days, Dr. Gordon Freeman cried.

**White Forest, 10:24 PM**

A few hours later Gordon was sitting on a spare bed the rebels had gotten for him in a small lonely room. Apparently there was news that a large Combine attack force was headed their way and was expected to arrive some time tomorrow.

He felt a feeling of satisfaction, that Alyx and Barney were alive and he was safe at the facility he called home surrounded by acquaintances and friends, but... it just seemed _different._

He didn't know what it was, but nobody seemed to be the same person he remembered them as. _Is it because I'm not the Gordon Freeman these people know?_

He'd been alienated. He was sure people didn't mean to, but they just naturally felt... uncomfortable with him existing. _I wasn't supposed to exist here, _he realised. _I cheated, and I payed the consequences._

Someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he answered, looking up.

The door opened slowly, and Alyx walked in. Gordon smiled, standing up. "Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Oh, well," Alyx closed the door behind her, turning back to him. Her expression was serious, "just to talk. You good with that?"

Gordon smiled, sitting back down. "Yeah, yeah, of course." He patted his bed. "Please, sit down."

Alyx sat down slowly, smiling at him somewhat awkwardly. Gordon tried not to notice. "You know, I remember you doing something similar to this a few days ago." He looked at her. "The day of Eli's funeral?"

Alyx nodded slowly. "I did, didn't I?"

_Someone knocked on Alyx's door. "Come in," she managed. When Gordon opened the door, she smiled. She patted her bed. "Come on, sit down."_

_Gordon obliged, placing himself on her bed._

Gordon looked down at his feet with a sigh. "Do you believe me?"

Alyx frowned momentarily, before her expression lightened. "Ah, right. Yes, I do believe you. I mean," she snorted, "your explanation fits, and the Gman is insisting that you're really Gordon Freeman, but..."

"Yeah, I know..." Gordon finished for her, "I'm not the Gordon Freeman _you _know."

"Yeah," Alyx admitted, smiling weakly.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I'm thankful that you're here, you know," she added quietly. "Everyone is. We'll need all the help we can get for tomorrow."

Gordon nodded, but kept his silence. "I didn't think it through enough..."

"Sorry?"

"When I came up with my argument, so I could bring you and Barney back to life, I didn't think about it enough." Gordon sighed, shaking his head. "I hadn't expected there to be another me."

Gordon looked up at Alyx. "He's a good man. Believe me, I know him better than anyone."

Alyx giggled a bit at that. "Yeah, I know."

A pause. "Gordon, I think you already know this..."

"Yes?"  
"But..." she shook her head, thinking of a way to say what she had to. "To me, and I think I can speak for everyone here, you're not really..."  
"Gordon Freeman?" Gordon chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I guessed that was how you felt."

Alyx nodded slowly, looking at her feet. Gordon noticed that she looked guilty about saying it. "Hey, don't worry about it," he smiled, trying to cheer her up, "I don't really mind."

"But..." Alyx insisted, "but you came back in time... just so you could be with Barney and I again."

"And I got my wish."

"I know," she agreed, "it's just that... well, we can't really... be together."

Gordon had expected something like that. He'd been trying to forget that he'd have to come to terms with that bombshell, but it was the truth: To the Alyx Vance before him, he _wasn't _the Gordon Freeman she knew and loved. He nodded. "I know." He whispered.

He saw again that she felt guilty for saying that. "Alyx, it's OK." Gordon persisted, but she had already started to cry.

"Oh, I can't even imagine how you must _feel..._" she sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Gordon..."

Gordon sighed, putting his arm around her. "Alyx," he whispered, "Please don't worry about me."

Alyx sniffed, her shoulders trembling.

"I'm _happy _for you." Gordon insisted. "You and me. Well, not really _me, _per se, but you know what I mean."

Alyx's shoulders were still shaking, but she had stopped crying. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes. "You know," she sniffed, "you really _do _feel like the real Gordon Freeman."

* * *

OK, this is positively the FINAL quick update because there's only ONE chapter and an epilogue left.

Also, I have one final note to leave you with: IN THIS WORLD, NOBODY IS SAFE.


	27. Twenty Six: Premonition

**Now, I know what everyone's thinking: _What? The last chapter is only this long?_ Well, no actually, it isn't. I decided to break up the final chapter into pre-battle and battle segments, thus - hopefully - making everyone thirsty for more. Yes, I know, I'm extremely unreliable when it comes to predicting these things, but I'm hoping this is seen as a bonus to everyone rather than a con.**

**But believe me, I promise this is the second last chapter excluding epilogue. There's really nothing else to add, it's all coming together to here. So, sit back, relax and enjoy. While waiting for the final chapter, why not take a sneak peak at the trailer for the machinima? The link can be found in the prologue and all credit goes to Deremix and Xenexe for both making the trailer and voice acting respectively. So thanks to those two for that, and I will now shut up and let you start reading.

* * *

**

**-=Chapter Twenty Six: Premonition=-**

**Romanian-Serbian Border, 6:19 AM**

The sun had not yet risen above the horizon, providing the beautifully green Serbian countryside at the border of Romania in the province of Vojvodina with a dim light that seemed to amplify the rich colour of the various plants that surrounded the Combine camp.

There were about twelve thousand personnel gathered around twenty kilometres north east of the town of Kikinda and soldiers had been convening on the location all through the night. Hunter-Choppers had been landing around the outside of the campsite, as had the Synth gunships and dropships.

At this very moment — should someone view the camp from the sky — one would see a single soul standing before one of the many fires that had been lit the night before. The Combine didn't need to pretend they weren't there, rather they wanted to scare the Serbian resistance into leaving them alone. So far it had worked.

The soldier was silent, the crackling fire reflecting of the eyepieces of his respirator mask. On his shoulder was an insignia he had received at his previous post: Nova Prospekt.

He'd been something of a legend at the facility, stationed there longer than anyone he could remember. Everyone he'd originally been with had either been transferred or murdered by the bastards that were imprisoned inside its sickly yellowed walls.

He'd overseen the construction of the Combine depot. When it had been announced he had been extremely glad, as the original facility he had been supplied with was little more than dysfunctional remains of a communist gulag-like high-security prison. The cell walls and floors clearly showed the intentions of the original builders: ceramic walls and a drain in the floor, so any blood could be washed away cleanly and without issue.

The Combine didn't need such a feature. They didn't need to pretend they were treating their prisoners fairly in case the enemy raided the complex. They _wanted _people to see the blood.

Unfortunately, the last person to see the facility before its destruction — and this soldier's escape — was Dr. Gordon Freeman, and the only people he'd seen lying dead in small enclosed rooms were Combine guards.

The soldier's eyes thinned behind his mask. He had performed to the best of his ability with what little of the neglected facility he had been assigned to and what he got in return was the death of his fellow guards. The human infection had gotten out of control, their fantasies of a contingency in which _they _were the victors had gone too far. The entire militant force of the human race had been crushed in fewer hours than there are daylight, and twenty years later in a world where such strength and technology were mere memories of the past there was a resistance that truly believed they could crush the Combine? It was unprecedented!

The only reason this 'Resistance' had lasted so long was the abnormal excitement that the human race had felt when Dr. Gordon Freeman had appeared a month ago, beating up soldiers with an old crowbar and receiving aid from the underground outposts set up by refugees forced from the city. But such a reaction proved that the Combine had been successful: they'd worn the human race out so much that a single man of minor importance created widespread stimulation to rise up and declare all out war on the Combine.

Besides, the only victories they had had were either because of the chaos they caused... or Gordon Freeman was helping.

The soldier hated the thought and hated himself more for believing such a thing, but he could scarcely deny it: Gordon Freeman was a major incentive to the resistance, and with good reason too. Despite the fact that he was, as he clearly remembered Dr. Breen stressing a while before his unfortunate passing, an ordinary man who had a doctor's degree in theoretical physics, Gordon Freeman had proved countless times that he was not a force to be reckoned with.

The fire burned not a metre from the soldier, the heat conducted by the dark clothing he wore on his legs. But it was not unpleasant, not when such an opposing temperature was blowing against his back.

He looked down into the flames, eyes veiled by the opaque lenses of his respirator. The soldiers would be ready to leave within half an hour and they were going to make this Gordon Freeman and his resistance burn, just as he had done to Nova Prospekt.

He would feel the intense heat.

And he would scream.

**White Forest, 7:14 AM**

Gordon had to admit, the men who kept watch over the base were brave souls indeed. Despite freezing cold nights that were certain to come and long hours staring into the darkness, they excelled at their jobs and the base reaped the rewards of it.

He nodded at one of the guards as he passed by the gate at the valley round the back of White Forest. "Morning, Dick."

The rebel seemed surprised to see Gordon. "Ah, good morning, Dr. Freeman... uh, didn't I see you just a few minutes ago?"

Gordon chuckled as he walked up the grassy path, his boots crunching in the dirt. "Probably did."

—

Gordon found the other him at the old water tower, sitting on a grassy hill a few metres from the edge of the lake. Of course, it was no longer a water tower but the ruined remains of one. Gordon remembered the exact moment in which the Strider had blown the large structure to pieces, and even now old planks of wood floated alone and forgotten on the lake.

Gordon noticed himself coming toward him, and he nodded a casual greeting. "Hey," he acknowledged, smiling at his double. "What's up?"

"Yeah, nothing much," Gordon answered, sitting down beside himself, looking out at the lake. "What brings you here this fine morning?"  
The other chuckled, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. "Maybe for the same reason you came here."

Gordon laughed, shaking his head. "Actually, I was intending to come here... well, to reminisce on the good times."

That prompted another laugh from his counterpart. "Well, considering the other stuff we've gone through."

"Hmm." Gordon nodded in agreement.

The two gazed out at the lake, watching the tiny ripples on the surface. "You seem a lot more accepting today," Gordon noticed.

His twin looked over at him, eyebrow raised. "Surely you understand it's not every day I see myself burst into a room."  
Gordon smiled. "Yeah, no, that's fine. I'd probably have done the same thing you did." His smile widened. "Actually, I would have."

The other Gordon looked over at him. "Isn't it a weird feeling? That there are two of you in the world and you're both the same person but different individuals?"

"For sure," Gordon agreed. "But... I don't know, there're a few differences. For example, you haven't had the misfortune of watching your best friend and the woman you love die."

His counterpart frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"No, nothing," Gordon quickly explained. "I'm glad for your sake you haven't. It's horrible."

The other Gordon's expression softened. "Yeah, it would be." A pause. "Sorry you had to see that."

Gordon shook his head, "I'm OK now, I guess..." he smiled weakly. "Now that I'm here, with everyone all over again..." he looked up at the other Gordon. "Did Magnusson give any hints as to how big this Combine force is?"

His double shrugged, "We estimate at least one division worth of foot soldiers. How they're getting here is most likely going to be by air so there's probably going to be a lot of Hunter-Chopper and dropships. Hopefully there won't be gunship escorts, but we don't know."

Gordon rubbed his forehead with his backhand. "Damn," he muttered. "Reckon we should head back?"  
The other Gordon shrugged again, standing up. "Yeah, why not? Come on, let's go."

—

It was about half past seven by the time the two returned to the base, and by then most people were up and getting things ready. The Combine could appear at any moment and everyone had to be ready for them. After all, the Combine had never gathered such a large force to attack on such a small scale before. Previously, most assaults had been small hit-and-run attempts that had ultimately failed.

No one had seen an Advisor since Eli's death and people were getting anxious. They had no idea what they'd be facing except there was going to be a _lot _of infantry and supposedly there were being flown in, or so the Serbian rebels had reported yesterday afternoon.

Ordinarily, the only thing that rebels had any trouble with was Hunter-Choppers. Give them enough rockets and any gunship could be taken down, and synth dropships only had a single piddly turret on the side that had an average rate of fire and heated up way too often. Hunter-Choppers, though, were the mean mothers. Armed with huge payloads of explosive mines and a powerful but quick to cool off turret, they'd caused the Resistance a lot of strife until very recently when Gordon Freeman had come up with an ingenious tactic of throwing the mines back at the chopper. This had quickly caught on and it was now one of the basic lessons taught by the Resistance as a demonstration of ingenuity versus superior weaponry.

Striders were also real bitches. They seemed to last countless rockets to their oversized heads while dealing amounts of destruction that, more often than not, transcended past overkill. Fortunately, they'd had no reports on Strider sightings and they were pretty hard to miss, so the rebels were confident Gordon wouldn't have to go driving around killing the bastards with the conceited Dr. Magnusson's extremely effective Strider busters.

Then again, now that there were _two _Gordon Freemans, people were hoping the Combine would quite literally wet themselves when they saw the two together.

Something they were planning to do at the first possible moment.

As the two entered the garage at the back of the base, they were approached by someone, out of breath. "Uh... Dr. Freemans," the rebel began, feeling slightly awkward at addressing the two of them, "Dr. Magnusson wants you in his office ASAP."

Both the Gordons nodded, their face mirroring each other perfectly. When Dr. Magnusson asked for you to come ASAP, he was trying to say 'right damn now' professionally. The rebel spotted their identical expressions and his face broke into a wide smile. "Boy, you two have no idea how similar you liked just then," he chortled.

One of the Gordon's raised an eyebrow, looking at his copy. "Really?"

"Well, you both made the same face." He explained, his smile still as wide as it had been. "Anyway, you'd better hurry along," he snorted, "from your faces I can tell that you know what Dr. Magnusson'll do if you're late."

The Gordons nodded, almost simultaneously. "No need to remind us."

As they walked off, both of them smiled. This time, however, they were in perfect unison. _I could get used to this, _they thought.

—

Dr. Magnusson didn't even bother turning around from the dented green locker in the corner of his office when the blast door guarding the room slid open and the identical duo entered. "Good, I see you two have arrived." He commented, still facing his locker. One of the Gordons peeked his head around, trying to get a look into the locker.

Magnusson turned around, holding a Kalashnikov rifle. He noted the looks of surprise on the Gordons' faces and he frowned. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," one of them answered hastily. "I've just never seen you with a gun."

Magnusson cocked an eyebrow at the remark, before grabbing a magazine, smacking it into the well and wrenching the slide back in about two or three seconds. "It's not like I don't know _how _to use them," he muttered, bracing the stock against his shoulder before firing a short burst into the wall on the opposite side of his office. Both Gordons ducked instinctively, knowing full well that bullets didn't just absorb themselves into something they hit and often ricocheted if that something was concrete or asphalt. "I just haven't _needed _to." He concluded, releasing the magazine with a flick of the release lever in front of the trigger guard and catching it swiftly.

"I didn't mean anything," Gordon explained.

Magnusson snorted. "I know you didn't. _I _was just proving a point." He cleared his throat, pocketing the magazine and placing the gun on his desk. "Right, down to business: The Combine is coming, and we need to use everything we can against them." He looked over at a document of his desk before looking back at them. "Serbian Resistance members have confirmed a number in excess of ten thousand men, possibly around eleven or twelve thousand. The personnel at White Forest number exactly two thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven, meaning we are anywhere up to ten thousand troops short of an equal fight, not including the enemy will have air support."

Magnusson stared the two Freemans in their eyes, relaying his fierce determination to them through his own. "But what we have on our side is a member of the Fissionist faction, two Dr. Gordon Freemans..." he paused momentarily, smiling grimly, "... and _balls._"

The two Gordons grinned at the comment, but one of the two frowned not long after. _Hold on, _he thought, _if two of me were created when the Gman changed the past, then how come two of _him_ haven't been created?_

Dr. Magnusson was oblivious to his thoughts, however, as he continued unperturbed. "As you are aware, the name 'Gordon Freeman' is synonymous for dangerous and threatening. To the Combine, that is. Something we have noticed watching the Combine for twenty years is they are overconfident, and such an attitude has spawned laziness. The Combine had become used to ruling unopposed and according to what the Gman has told us this has become a prominent attribute in their race: they think they are better than they really are.

"Thus, morale is a key part of how their military operates. If the troops are confident they will win, they most probably will. But if they are disheartened, most likely they will become less effective in combat."

He smiled at the two Gordons. "You know what I'm suggesting, I assume?"

"Let me guess," one Gordon replied, "you want us to be at the forefront of the defence, along with the Gman."

Magnusson nodded. "Exactly. The only problem we have is this: _Where _is the forefront of the defence going to be?"

"The Combine are camped at the northeastern part of Serbia, on the border, aren't they?" the other Gordon asked.

"According to our contacts in the area, yes."

"So we can assume they'll be coming from the front, since White Forest is facing the border."

It was true. The base was located around one hundred kilometres from where the Romanian city of Bucharest had once stood, and that meant it was about three and a bit hundred kilometres from the Serbian border, where the Combine soldiers were. The thing was, to get to White Forest from where they were would only require a single vector to be input and they'd get there in an hour or so.

And that was why they had to be ready for them at all times, so they wouldn't be surprised when they turned up.

"That's what we assume." Magnusson agreed, "However, we can't know for sure."

"Do we have people stationed anywhere that could give us an early warning?" one of the Gordon's asked.

"Yes, we've had a platoon of soldiers set up a small outpost about fifty kilometres from here, camouflaged by a small town. The last time I heard from them was not long ago, actually. They've holed themselves up in some of the old buildings there."

"Fifty kilometres..." the other Gordon scratched his chin. "That means we'll have about... ten minutes if they're flying?"

Magnusson nodded, pursing his lips. "I have to admit, this is going to be one of the hardest things we've ever come up against, but we _can't_ let these bastards take this battle, not after _everything_ the Resistance has accomplished and not when we're so _close_ to destroying the Romanian force."

He exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead. "Well, you'd better get yourself ready. Do you know where the Gman is?"

"You called, Magnusson?" the man chuckled, entering the room with a nonchalant wave at the scientist.

Magnusson didn't do anything for a moment or so, before he cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, actually..." he adjusted his fading red tie, "I take it you are ready for the Combine assault?"

The Gman smiled, looking over at the two Gordons. "Certainly, Dr. Magnusson. Do you have an estimation to the time of their arrival?"

"Well, our men stationed out at the abandoned town haven't reported anything yet, but they should be here within a few hours." Magnusson answered, nodding at the two Freemans. "Go on, get yourselves ready."

The two of them left without another word. The Gman took a step out of their way, before glancing over at Dr. Magnusson. "You are aware that there is a possibility all your organisation is a little redundant."

Magnusson frowned, taking a step away from his desk. "And what do you mean by that?"

The Gman allowed himself a quiet chuckle, turning to Dr. Magnusson. "You underestimate me, Dr. Magnusson. No doubt the Combine will not share your unfortunate attitude."

"You're saying they might just surrender when they see you?" Magnusson snorted. "Surely as a member of the Fissionist Faction you are aware of the Combine's overconfident nature?"

The Gman stared at Magnusson coldly. "The Combine is not stupid, Magnusson. Should they discover what I am, no doubt they will do everything in their power to make me go away. Of course, I myself will attempt to do the same to them."

"So they _won't _surrender."

"Your guess is, most probably, correct."

"But you _will _drive them into the ground?"

The Gman smiled again. "There are two things that the Fissionist Faction excels at. One, defending the universe from the Combine and its slaves. Two, destroying the Combine."

Magnusson cocked an eyebrow. "I remember that you didn't take any weapons with you to Northern Sweden..." he continued, requiring an explanation.

The Gman nodded. "Your observations are accurate, as expected." He smiled. "I haven't needed to use weapons for a long time."

Magnusson decided to leave the topic at that, clearing his throat. "Well, uh... that's all, Gman."

Again, the Gman gave a nod and departed. Magnusson rubbed the bridge of his nose anxiously. _I pray this isn't the end..._

—

Silent perfection was critical.

Not even the rustling of foliage could be allowed to betray your presence.

Not even the quiet scraping of boots on soft dirt could be allowed to give you away.

Unless you wanted a bullet in your head.

Doubtless the group of Serbian rebels were repeating this in their heads as they lay silently in the tall grass on a small hill near the Combine camp. It was huge, bigger than any Combine gathering they had ever seen in their lives. The force sent to Serbia during the Seven Hour War had probably been much larger, but of course everyone had been running and nobody had had time to catch any more than a fleeting glance at the aggressive enemy.

They didn't have any weapons with them, nor radios or anything on their body except their clothes so that they wouldn't be heard. All they had was their eyes, scanning the giant cantonment. From what they could see there were landed Hunter-Choppers along with gunships and dropships. That was about it for the Combine aviation, but it certainly confirmed they were going to have their attack largely air-based. There didn't appear to be any Striders, or even Hunters for that matter. There also didn't seem to be any Advisors, which was always a bonus. The Serbians knew about Dr. Eli Vance and had heard of his death, something they wished to avenge in their own fight against the Combine force in their country.

Governments had fallen, but territories, borders and nationalities still stood.

Soldiers were moving in every which way, both running and walking. They were still too numerous to be counted properly and the encampment itself was too big to be seen entirely from where they were, but they still couldn't dismiss the estimation often thousand plus. Needless to say, it was a lot of soldiers.

Then the rebels noticed something: the soldiers were getting weapons, preparing themselves to leave.

The lead soldier looked at the other two men with him and nodded, "U redu, idemo," he whispered almost silently, and the men started the slow crawl back to their base.

—

"_White Forest, come in."_

"This is White Forest. Identify yourselves." The radio operator announced, pressing the headset to his cheek.

"_White Forest, this is the Serbian Resistance." _the person on the other end reported in a thick Serbian accent. _"Our men just returned from their reconnaissance mission at the Combine camp. They have confirmed that the Combine is mobilising their troops."_

"How long ago did they see this?" The radio operator asked, shoving another rebel away after he'd leaned over and muttered 'How's the old AR3, buddy?'

"_About fifteen minutes," _the Serbian rebel continued.

"Alright, thanks for that. Out."

—

The atmosphere at White forest could be summarised in a single word: Tense.

The base didn't have an outer wall, save for a wire mesh fence that surrounded the perimeter. Of course, this wasn't going to be much defence against bullets or anything that could fly over it.

Anti Aircraft defences included laser guided rockets and Hunter Chopper mines that could only be thrown by the single existing Gravity Gun — Gordon hadn't taken it or most of his other weapons to Aperture Science and thus only one of them existed.

There was no such thing as dogfights, not with helicopters that didn't have air-to-air missiles. Everything the Combine had in the air was simply to tear everything the Resistance had on the ground to shreds.

And they were outnumbered by almost ten thousand soldiers.

There was only one thing they were praying for as they nervously awaited the announcement from the outpost fifty kilometres from White Forest:

That two men and one immortal guardian of the universe would equilibrate the direly unbalanced scale on which the fate of the Resistance hung.


	28. Twenty Seven: Culmination

**-=Chapter Twenty Seven: Culmination=-**

**Resistance Outpost near Bucharest, 8:06 AM**

There were about twenty of them in the large multistorey office building, all of them waiting for the Combine to pass through. They didn't have any weapons capable of doing any really effective as all they were armed with were some submachine guns and a couple of shotties, and that meant nothing that could take down a helicopter or something of that ilk.

Shattered windows offered no protection from the wind, but then again it would mean they'd hear the Combine choppers a lot earlier. The twenty odd soldiers were in a single large office area comprised of multiple cubicles in various states of disarray and a collection of broken computer monitors.

One of the rebels was considering allowing another to push him on an old wheelie chair whose wheels had seen better days. "What the hell," he shrugged, thus giving the rebel behind him indirect permission to shove him across the room.

The wheels proved reliable until about halfway, when one of them caught on something and the chair stopped abruptly, throwing the rebel a few metres through the air before he landed unceremoniously on the carpet.

A chorus of laughter followed not long after.

Suddenly, one of the rebels hissed for everyone to be quiet. Everyone was, and they all heard what the rebel was talking about: Chopper blades.

Quickly, everyone scrambled for cover. People clambered into small cubicles, hiding under desks while poking their heads out the tiniest bit so as to see anyone fly past.

About half a minute later, when the chopper blades roar was almost deafeningly loud, a whole group of Hunter-Choppers flew past.

But it didn't stop there. Gunships and dropships also flew through the concrete jungle of damaged buildings, their quasi-organic parts humming noisily as they went.

There was an entire aerial convoy flying through the town, completely oblivious to the fact that twenty rebels were watching them from inside one of the deserted buildings. One of the rebels grabbed a radio, bringing it to his mouth. "White Forest, the formation of Combine aircraft has just flown past us!"

"_Copy that, Recon Unit Alpha Five," _the radio operator replied, his voice somewhat tense. _"Thanks for that."_

"No worries, White Forest," The rebel whispered back, smiling grimly, "out."

**White Forest, 8:31 AM**

They were everywhere.

They waited among the trees.

They waited in their guard towers.

They waited on the roof of the complex and on the grassy hills the complex was built into.

Almost three thousand soldiers at White Forest, waiting.

Waiting to defend those they loved.

Waiting to destroy those they hated.

Waiting to avenge those they had been too late to save.

Their resolute determination was clearly palpable and they showed it in their faces and their eyes.

The Combine wasn't going to take White Forest.

Not while there were two Gordon Freemans and a Member of the Fissionist Faction there to help.

—

Gordon looked over at the men beside him, biting his lip tensely. They were standing on one of the grassy hills the White Forest bunkers had been built into, right at the front of the complex so there was no possible way the Combine could miss them. The other two people beside him, one being himself and the other being the Gman, appeared to share his feelings. At least, the other Gordon was. The Gman's expression hadn't changed from its now commonplace calm nonchalance and he seemed as concerned about this battle as he did cleaning his pianist-esque nails.

Gordon decided to take refuge in his attitude instead of using it as an opportunity to worry about the imminent conflict. He knew the Gman's casual outlook wasn't because he was an oblivious idiot, but because he wasn't actually worried that the impending battle would be the cause of any concern.

If anything, he seemed to be looking forward to it.

Gordon took another look at his twin, who didn't seem to share the Gman's unworried feelings. _I guess there's a big difference between human beings and Fissionists, _Gordon thought to himself, _in relation to the importance of things that we consider pretty major. Being brutally murdered, for example._

He gritted his teeth, holding his shotgun tightly and wishing for the hundredth time he didn't need to pee — which, unfortunately, he did.

Maybe he wouldn't have been as worried if he wasn't standing on the top of a building, out in the open with nowhere to take cover save for a few large rocks. Of course, he'd faced some equally serious shit before. But he'd had places to take cover from fire, he hadn't been facing the equivalent of a military division worth of soldiers... and most of the time, he'd had someone by his side.

That someone had usually been Alyx.

Now all he had for comfort was his duplicate — who didn't appear to feel any different to him, except maybe he'd emptied his bladder more recently — and the laid-back Gman — who was immortal.

—

A few minutes later, he heard the sound of rotary blades whirring in the distance. He noticed the people with him tensing in anticipation — the Gman included — and he nearly wet himself as he pursed his lips defiantly.

And then...

"_For what the Combine fear the most is not any tangible human weapon, but our will, our intellect, our ability to respond selectively and rationally to every terror they turn against us."_

Gordon blinked in slight confusion, unsure whether or not he was hearing things. _What's going on?_

The roaring of the blades got louder...

"_We place our firmest hope in the human spirit, even knowing how easily it may be shattered. We have all seen friends and family crushed by the Combine."_

_Dr. Kleiner... _Gordon realised suddenly, _he's playing one of his illegal broadcasts to everyone._

His thoughts returned to the situation quickly as he spotted trees rustling in the distance.

"Here they come..." his twin muttered edgily.

"_Some of our neighbours have allowed themselves to be co-opted, and purged of their humanity, by the military machine."_

Gunfire erupted, coupled with the deafening roar of rocket-propelled grenades being launched at the enemy.

"_And those who resisted have met a most terrible fate."_

A different type of gunfire sounded as explosions echoed across the facility, followed by the horrific screams of human voices.

"_Still, I cannot overstate how important it is that we retain our humanity. Only this will allow us to hold together as we must for their inevitable return..."_

_Their inevitable return..._

And that was when Gordon saw the first of the enemy force.

His eyes widened.

"Oh _shit..._" his counterpart whispered.

"_...and what is certain to be unimaginable retaliation."_

—

A large unit of infantry had been deployed at the foot of the mountain so as to give the Combine attackers some boys on the ground in case the Resistance gave their dropships some trouble. In command of this company sized unit was Brigadier General Soldier 47291, most notable for his previous position as Warden of Nova Prospekt.

As the highest ranking commissioned officer the Combine force had, Soldier 47291 was in complete command of the entire operation and so far he had loved every minute of it. He'd been waiting for a chance to get his revenge on the Resistance, and now he was leading the ground force.

The men ran up the sloping path on the side of the hill, their equipment jostling against their bodies as they went. Not far away, they could hear the sound of gunfire and explosions, but they had become accustomed to that ever since they had arrived on the planet.

But then — of course — the inevitable happened, as it inevitably must.

Just as the ground was levelling out and the Resistance base was in sight, someone started yelling frantically on his radio.

"_Sir, there are _two _Gordon Freemans!"_

—

"I think they've seen us now!" Gordon yelled, walking backwards up the hill quickly as a nearby Hunter Chopper opened fire on them from a mere ten metres away. His duplicate wasted no time in following suit, but he also tried returning fire on the chopper's cockpit. A window shattered and... that was about it, really, because the pilot had apparently spotted the Gman, wondered why there was an unarmed guy in a suit standing on the rooftop and decided to open fire on him instead.

Bad choice.

The Gman moved. Fast. He jumped off the grass-covered building and cleared the distance between him and the Hunter Chopper without even taking a run-up, before crashing through the windscreen and splattering the pilot on the back of his seat. The co-pilot was thrown out the shattered cockpit windows without so much as a pause from the Gman and finally he decided to get back out again through the broken glass. He jumped off the nose of the helicopter just before it slammed into the dirt and crumpled like a black plastic cup, somehow managing to grab hold of the edge of the building he'd been on not ten seconds previously.

He noticed the Gordons had already retreated a few steps and were now behind cover — a small collection of boulders — getting their rocket launchers ready. Their cover was substantial enough, but it wasn't exactly ideal. Then again, neither was standing on the grassy roof of a building as ten thousand soldiers stormed the place along with helicopters and flying cybernetic organisms with turrets connected to them.

Rockets flew all around the base, most of them hitting their targets while others went flying off to blow up a boulder somewhere about ten kilometres away. But that wasn't the main thing the Combine was worrying about.

By now most of the Combine soldiers had realised there was a Member of the Fissionist Faction in the midst of the Resistance and that meant the threat level had been raised from _determined annoyance_ to _oh-crap-we're-going-to-die_.

Another spout of Hunter-Chopper gunfire chased the Gman, before he caught a fleeting glimpse of a single red dot on the side of the helicopter and watched two rockets spiral toward it in perfect unison.

The Chopper never had a chance. The rockets ripped through the side of the chopper's hull, detonating both on and inside the helicopter and sealing its fate.

The Gman didn't need to turn around to know both Freemans had been responsible. He just watched the tattered aircraft hit the ground in a burst of crackling flames. He swept his glistening eyes across the battlefield: Everywhere, enemy helicopters and gunships were crashing into the ground. A few of the trees had caught fire, and yet still rebels took cover before they jumped out into the open just to get a shot at the enemy aircraft.

But that was where the problems started to happen.

Since the enemy aircraft was a lot less numerous than the Resistance soldiers, that meant that all the Resistance needed was enough rockets and so far this had been working out. However, by now the _dropships _had had enough time to land themselves and deposit platoons worth of troops onto the battlefield and that meant the Resistance was soon outnumbered.

The Gman watched the enemy tear down the wire gates at the front of White Forest as gunfire rained down on them from above. Four soldiers valiantly attacked them from up in the wood and metal plated guard towers positioned at the gates, before a gunship spotted them and ended their short attack with two long bursts of its underslung turret. The guard towers exploded in a blast of wooden splinters and large chunks of corrugated iron, the thinner slivers of debris raining down on the soldiers as they forced their way into the complex and attacked the defenders, spreading out quickly so as to not draw fire to one large group.

And now the aircraft had been given a break.

_That's their plan, _the Gman smiled to himself, _compensate for the weaknesses the aircraft have by suppressing the Resistance's attempts to exploit them._

In other words, if the Resistance infantry was being fired at by foot soldiers then they wouldn't have time to attack the enemy aircraft, thus giving the Hunter-Choppers and gunships the opportunity to attack the facility itself.

Both Gordons had returned to the edge of the building and were now lying flat on their stomachs, firing at the enemy. The soldiers closest to them seemed more interested in the people on the ground than them so killing them wasn't that hard.

Then the Combine decided to twist things again.

People started yelling things into the Gordons' headsets, _"Dropships coming from the rear!"_

Both of them tried to turn their head so as to look backwards, but since they were lying down their view wasn't exactly optimal. Quickly, they got to their feet, turned on their heels and started running up the hill toward the other side of the complex.

—

There was one good thing about being Gordon Freeman during a battle at a large facility: You had a crowbar and a lot of airvents to make use of.

Since the Combine soldiers at the rear were undoubtedly coming into the base from the back, the two Dr. Freemans had decided to make their way inside the base and, hopefully, be able to stage a surprise attack on them as they made their way through the facility.

Not ten metres from the secondary silo — marked by two giant semi-circular doors in the ground — were two of these airvents. Doubtlessly they led into the base itself and that was what the two Gordons were here for.

Gordon — being the visitor Gordon — and the other Gordon — being the local from this timeline — wasted no time in pulling their crowbars from their combat webbing and beating the living crap out of the grate. The thin metal bars gave quickly, falling to the bottom of the metal shaft with a metallic clatter. The first Gordon slid himself into the vent, his boots hitting the vent floor below with a resounding bang, and he began crawling toward another grated light source not far away. A few moments later, a similar bang rang out through the vent as the other Gordon landed and began crawling through the vent.

The first Gordon made it to the other end and quickly smacked the grate to bits — albeit uncomfortably, since there wasn't much room to move — as pieces of it fell to the floor below. Gordon commando-crawled his way out, landing on a pile of conveniently placed crates on the ground. Slowly, he rolled onto the floor as the other Dr. Freeman landed on the crates as well. Both of them stood up in unison and got their various smallarms ready before pausing to look around the secondary silo.

It was a familiar setting: Not a week ago, Gordon had been fighting in this very place. It was basically a multistorey hollowed out cylinder that had a wide ring of platforms around the edges on each floor, connected to each other by way of wall mounted ladders.

But that wasn't what caused the Gordons to reminisce. The dried blood on the ground hadn't been seen to, neither had the damaged glass or the empty bullet casings. It was as if mere hours had passed, not days.

Still in the world of yesteryear, one of the Gordons looked up at the giant silo doors. There was a small blood splatter at the split between the two doors. _That was from one of the soldiers_, Gordon remembered. Having been shot, he'd flopped down lifelessly into the gap between the slowly closing silo doors. His comrades had backed away somewhat just before his body had been crunched in between the two doors.

That Gordon paused, thinking back to that day. _Hold on a second..._

_Gunfire..._

_Ducking behind the security console as the doors slowly slid shut..._

_Peering over the console, pulse rifle propped up on it, and opening fire on the soldiers on the roof..._

_An Advisor..._

"There was an Advisor here..." he whispered, the other Gordon looking over at him. He pointed, making a vague estimation at where it had been. "About there, I think."

"Yeah, you're right..." the other Gordon agreed, taking a few steps toward the edge of the silo. Both of them were thinking the same question in their minds: _Did it stay at White Forest the entire time?_

Was it possible this same Advisor that Gordon had seen... was the one that took Eli's life?

"Do you think that Advisor was the same one?" the other Gordon asked, looking over at himself

The first Gordon shrugged. "No idea. It could've been the one Dog mauled in the hangar."

_Dog..._

_Shattering the glass..._

_A whole lot of insanity... insanity involving Dog beating up an Advisor and..._

"There had been another Advisor there that day." The first Gordon remembered. "So where did it go?"

It was the other Gordon's turn to shrug. "Wherever it went, it certainly isn't here anymore. Come on, we'd better get going."

The first Gordon nodded slowly. "Yeah, good point. Alright, let's go."

—

The bowels of White Forest consisted of pipes, dim lighting and the quiet hiss of a constant stream of steam leaking from somewhere. Technically, the floor was also made of pipes running along the ground, but there was a line of metal mesh plating making a path above these pipes. It was sort of like what one would find in the bowels of a ship, rather than a militant facility.

_The engine room of the Borealis..._

Gordon was pressed against two pipes that were sticking out of the wall, thus hiding him from anyone who would have the misfortunate of coming from the other direction. He and the other Freeman were basically backtracking through the same path they had taken a few days ago when they were going _to _the secondary silo, which meant that the place they were in was vaguely familiar.

Gordon turned his head slightly, glancing over at his twin on the other side. He was behind a large metal crate, also awaiting the Combine force.

Somewhere far off, muffled footfalls could be heard. The troops were coming. How many there were was up for debate, but it sounded like a lot.

Gordon had noticed his anxiety had faded. This was where he belonged, waiting in silence for a huge collection of soldiers to come down a narrow, badly lit hallway. Not standing on the roof of a building in broad daylight while helicopters and gunships flew all around, shooting your comrades.

His twin also didn't seem to be that worried anymore either. He just looked anticipant, waiting in the shadows. Then again, he probably felt the same way as Gordon because he _was Gordon._

The footfalls were getting louder, the metal mesh clanging as a hundred odd boots clattered down the hallway.

Gordon tightened his gloved grip on his shotgun. This was it. Things were definitely going to get very hot, very soon.

His counterpart was holding his MP7 just as tightly, gripping both the pistol grip and foregrip like they were stress balls. Fortunately, the gun was small and the calibre wasn't that big either, so recoil was rarely a problem with the gun. Gordon noted his duplicate's choice of weapon, as it was a good one. Should he have chosen Corporal Shephard's stolen M4A1, he'd have wondered if they really were the same person. Close quarters combat was what small submachine guns like the MP7 had been designed for in the first place.

The footfalls were agonisingly close now, so close that Gordon estimated they were just around the corner...

His twin nodded.

They swung their upper bodies around, opening fire on the soldiers. The lead man was instantly shredded, along with a few others close behind him. People behind them tried to get out of the way rather than return fire, but their effort were in vain. Soon after, the MP7 wielding Gordon had to pause and reload, therefore leaving his safety in shotgun wielding Gordon's hands.

Gordon pointed his SPAS-12 around the corner again, his gun jerking backwards as a shell of shot exploded from the barrel, taking out the side of one of the soldier's ribcage. He fell, screaming in agony as his flesh was torn from his body. Other soldiers returned fire, heavy pulse rounds slamming into the pipes Gordon was hiding behind. He swung his arms back around, pumping the action before aiming back at the soldiers and firing again.

A chorus of automatic fire sounded just after Gordon had fired, coming from his twin on the opposite side of the gloomy hallway. More bodies fell, having been turned into lead-sandwich.

Suddenly, one of the pipes Gordon was hiding behind exploded and began spraying a thick mist of boiling water vapour out at the soldiers. Apparently, one of the less intelligent soldiers had blown a bullet hole in the pipe.

Gordon took the opportunity to make a break for it, hoping the steam would act like a smoke grenade. His twin had the same idea and also got up and ran, but the Combine soldiers had obviously encountered something like this before because they opened fire on the steam, seemingly having expected their assailants to make a run for it.

Or maybe they were just being smart for once.

One of the bullets hit Gordon in the leg, causing him to stumble briefly. Fortunately it wasn't anything major so he regained his balance before the soldiers decided to follow them through the cloud of boiling water. Unfortunately for the duo of Freemans, they didn't seem affected by it at all and simply ploughed through it after them.

"We need to find somewhere to take cover!" one of the Gordons yelled to his duplicate as he reloaded his shotgun.

The other Gordon replied the affirmative as they rounded another corner leading to a short corridor that then led to a large two level storage room accessible via a ladder at the end of the corridor. It was the same storage area type place they'd fought the trio of Hunters in during the Combine's last attempt to break in. Not unlike the secondary silo itself the dead hadn't been removed, including both Hunters and humans.

The Gordons wasted no time in jumping down to the platforms on the second level before splitting up, one Gordon sliding onto the floor as he headed to the right while the other Gordon continued along the catwalk that lead to his left. Not a moment later soldiers entered the giant room, spotted the Gordon on the right and opened fire.

Gordon sped up as the bullets bit at his heels and he charged around the corner, his suited leg muscles pumping as he ran for the ramp at the other end of the room. It was just as dimly lit as the hallway had been, the only vibrant light being the glowing red of the alert lights on the walls and roof.

Gordon slowed as he ascended the ramp, cocking his shotgun and catching the shell. He checked it quickly, saw it hadn't been fired and hurriedly reloaded it. He continued along the metal catwalk lining the room's perimeter, past the three large yellow tanks connected to the wall on his right and over to the opposite side of the room. He spotted his counterpart not a few metres away, and also caught a glimpse of the soldiers chasing him.

Having reunited once more, the first Gordon turned and pointed at the three tanks. "Quick, behind the tanks!" he hissed, pushing his twin toward them, "I'll watch your back."

Gordon reached the furthest tank and checked his MP7's ammo, before slotting the magazine back in and recocking the weapon. The other Gordon knelt down behind him, watching the ramp he had come from not long ago.

The familiar sound of booted feet on metal echoed off the concrete walls as the soldiers charged around the corner, their guns blazing. Two bullets hit Gordon in the chest as he returned fire with his submachine gun. Two soldiers fell, one of them rolling lifelessly off the platform and onto the hard floor below. Other soldiers tried to hide from the assault of bullets by diving behind a decently sized concrete pillar about eight or so metres from their attackers.

Gordon ducked down behind the large yellow tank to reload his MP7, bullets clanging loudly against the tanks as he hid behind them. Suddenly — and completely randomly — there was a much deeper _clung _noise, then there was the cataclysmic sound of metal groaning under stress before one of the tanks burst outwards violently, a thick spray of _water _gushing from a giant hole in its side.

Neither the Combine nor the duo of Dr. Freemans had been expecting this, but the latter used it as distraction material to get out of there. As soon as they moved gunfire followed them, but a motley array of metal plating had been stuck to the safety rail at various places so half the time bullets just ricocheted unpredictably.

By the time the two Gordons had reached the floor, it had already started to flood. But once they'd reached the ground level and quickly taken cover from the hail of bullets under a scaffold-type structure near the far wall, they realised they had no idea how to get out of the room.

"I came in through a small tunnel-like gap leading from the hallway on the other side of that wall." One of the Gordons pointed behind him at the wall the three tanks were connected to, the water splashing down loudly.

"Me too!" the other Gordon nodded, yelling over the roar of the rushing water. They were so close to the burst tank that even the gunfire had been muffled. "Is there another way out of here?"

"Has to be!" the first Gordon replied loudly, ducking his head instinctively as a few bullets bounced off some metal plating nearby. "I doubt people normally crawl through from the hallway into here!"

The other Gordon grinned at the thought, another group of bullets smacking into the scaffold above them. "What do you suggest we do?"

Gordon looked around. They could try and go back the way they'd come, but if they didn't find a way back there was a chance they'd back themselves into a corner. "Ah, screw it," he growled, "let's crawl."

His twin nodded, noticing that the enemy gunfire had gotten louder. Apparently, the tank of water had emptied everything down to the level the hole was at. He could still hear a quieter trickle of water, but that meant the water wasn't getting any higher than it already was.

Both Gordon ran across the large, flooded area in the middle of the large room, bullets sending spray everywhere as the Combine soldiers on the second level fired down at them. Gordon slid to the floor near the entrance to the tunnel-like gap, water splashing up as he did so. Large droplets splattered on his glasses, appearing as blurry splotches since his eyes were trying to focus past them. The other Gordon started crawling into the gap, followed closely by the first Gordon as bullets nipped at their heels. Gordon felt something smack into the sole of his right boot and guessed someone had gotten a lucky shot.

Through they crawled, in water that would normally be about ankle-deep. Since they were crawling on their stomachs that meant the water level was a little below their chins. Fortunately, there wasn't an opportunity to get a clear shot at them since there were more randomly placed corrugated iron plates, the wavy type that looked like the stuff a stereotypical outback Australian would build a shack out of.

Suddenly there was a tremendous roar that came from the right side of the facility, the earth shook violently and the numerous glass windows shattered.

"What the hell was that?" one of the Gordons yelled to his counterpart as he kept dragging himself through the now disrupted water. Whatever it had been, it had sure stirred up the water and had now splashed that Dr. Freeman's face with the annoying yet slightly refreshing liquid.

"I don't know!" the other Gordon yelled back as they kept crawling. Not long after, the Gordon Freeman at the front reached the adjacent hallway, crawled onto the metal plating a few centimetres above the floor and lay on his back for a few moments as he waited for his twin to clamber out. Once they had both lain on the dry metal floor for a few moments, one of the Gordons sat up. "You think that quake was the Combine?"

The other one sat up too, shrugging. "To be honest, it probably was. I don't know _what _it was, though."

"Think we should go find out?"

The other Gordon looked behind him, down the corridor leading to the room where Gordon had first met the Vortigaunt Uriah. "Alright," he decided, climbing to his feet with a soft grunt, "let's go find out what just went down."

—

It hadn't been intentional, of course.

It was entirely coincidental, that was all.

Just because the Gman had thrown a helicopter into the side of the mountain from twenty metres up in the air didn't mean it was his fault the mountainside had collapsed.

But he couldn't refute the fact that it had happened, that was undeniable.

He was lying on the steep slope on the side of the mountain, sharp rocks pressing into his back. Down in the valley below, a single burning wreck lay smoking in the thin stream that flowed from somewhere far away. There were a few small flames licking at the paint, among a huge pile of dislodged boulders, grass and dirt that had crumbled when the Hunter-Chopper had smashed into the side of the mountain.

Not only that, but a small part of the facility had also collapsed. One of the two front entrances to White Forest consisted of a single long bunker-like structure built into the hill, and now it lay in large pieces of concrete debris at the foot of the mountain.

It had probably killed a lot of rebels.

On the other hand — this being the optimistic one — it had also probably killed a lot more Combine soldiers.

Straight back over to the first hand — this being the notoriously pessimistic hand — a large chunk of the mountain had collapsed and taken a sizable amount of the bunker inside that part of the mountain with it.

The Gman slowly sat up, his suited back covered in dirt and his hands badly bruised from grabbing onto the Hunter-Chopper's propellers, and climbed to his feet. He studied the damage he'd done, cocking an eyebrow at the sheer size of the pile now lying in the valley far below.

_Did I really cause a localised avalanche by throwing_ _a _helicopter_ into the side of a mountain?_

Short answer: Yes.

Long answer: Yes, and you're probably going to be up a certain creek with no paddle for it.

Grunting the the thought, the Gman slowly turned around and used his bloodied hands to climb back up to the battlefield.

There were still a few more gunships to rip apart.

—

The avalanche had given the Resistance defenders time to retreat to the Silo 1 in which Dr. Magnusson's rocket had been launched from. Since the only ways to get to them were via elevators — one that led down from one of the radio operation centres and the other one that was reachable by going the back way through the secondary silo — the rebels were confident they could hold off the Combine for as long as they needed to.

The silo was filled with about a thousand people, all on different levels. In total, there were five different levels and there were two elevators at both the first and the fifth floors. The Combine was effectively trapped up on the top level of the facility because the elevator was down at the Silo 1 and the giant blast doors between them and the silo weren't going to budge.

The Resistance had finally gotten themselves a secure foothold inside their own base.

Dr. Magnusson had predictably taken charge at the first opportunity presented to him, calling everyone to attention as he held his uncocked AK-47 ripoff over his shoulder. "Alright, people, how many casualties have we had?"

Everyone on the top floor of the empty silo watched him as he and Dr. Kleiner stood in front of the giant blast doors protecting them from the Combine soldiers up in the higher level bunker area. People stood against the wall, leaned on the safety rail around the middle of the hollow silo or just tried to forget that they'd just seen a good friend being murdered.

"Around five or six hundred, sir." Someone answered from the crowd.

Magnusson rubbed his forehead. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath, his brow furrowed. "Do we have any estimate as to the Combine's losses? Anyone?" he looked around the room, his tone reflecting his anger.

"The Gman's been tearing through them," someone else put forward. "So they've probably lost more than us."

Magnusson's eyes glared at the area that the comment had come from. "Probably lost more than us?" he demanded. "Do you mean in numbers, or in percentage?"

"Well, uh, obviously nu—"

"Because in percentage," Dr. Magnusson interjected angrily, "we estimate to have lost _one-sixth _of our men!"

Nobody made any sort of reply to break the tense atmosphere. Dr. Magnusson straightened up, exhaling loudly. "Right." He brushed his suit off, his brow still furrowed deeply. "Does anybody know where both Dr. Gordon Freemans are?"

Nobody did. "I last saw them with the Gman, who's still topside." Someone announced.

Magnusson bowed his head slightly, sighing. "OK." He muttered, rubbing his brow again. "OK. That means they're probably still up there fighting and we can't exactly go and help them," he nodded behind him at the giant blast doors sealing the silo. "Does anyone want to make an attempt to reach the surface via the back entrance?"

He was of course referring to the entrance to the facility that was on the other side of the base, where the Combine had staged their last major attack on the complex.

"We'll go." Someone decided from the crowd. People looked around for the source of the declaration and, once they'd made their way to the front of the group, they realised it was Alyx Vance herself. "Barney and I," she repeated, Barney Calhoun stepping out from the crown not a moment later, "we'll go the back way."

"Are you gonna need any help?" someone else inquired.

Alyx turned to the crowd, looking out at the people. "We probably will, since there might be soldiers trying to get up here. Do we have any volunteers?"

A few people raised their hands. "OK," Alyx turned back to Dr. Magnusson and Dr. Kleiner. "We'll go find them."

Magnusson nodded in affirmation. "Excellent. Well, you'd better hurry along."

Alyx smiled softly in reply, heading back through the crowd. "Come on, people," she called, and a few others crowd began making their way through the clusters of people toward the manhole leading down to the second level.

—

_Bang._

Gordon growled in frustration, looking at the defiant blast door angrily. Wherever the Vortigaunt Uriah was, he sure wasn't here to open the door for them. He turned to his twin, who shrugged. "Hey, I wouldn't know the codes either," he answered indignantly, looking at the door. "What makes you think I would if _you _don't?"

Gordon grunted in annoyance, looking around the room. There had to be some way to get throu— hold on, there was. He quickly looked over at the tall glass window beside the door, the one he remembered peering into from the other side as Uriah had come to open the door.

Without so much as a pause, he hoisted his crowbar and smashed the wedge-end into the glass. The glass complied instantly, shattering into a thousand translucent shards on the floor. Gordon then proceeded to knock out the remaining pieces up the top, so as to not damage his head. His body, well, he was wearing a suit that was mostly plated in metal.

After finishing that, he turned so his left side was facing the frame and hurriedly stepped through the thin gap. The other Gordon followed suit as soon as his duplicate was through. "That was an easy solution," he admitted, nodding at his twin.

Gordon smiled, looking at his handiwork. "It was, wasn't it?" he brushed himself off, although there wasn't really anything _to _brush off. "Right, we've still gotta get back up there." He looked at the dimly lit silo not ten metres away, and the elevator shaft. "Hang on, the elevator isn't here." He realised suddenly, running over to the shaft. He looked up, spotting the green box up on the top floor. "Great." He muttered as his counterpart came over, looking around for a panel on the wall. "Is there even a recall button?"

Suddenly, the elevator started to move down. Gordon backed away slowly, getting his shotgun out. "Someone's coming." he whispered, backing away from the edge of the shaft. "And I don't think it's going to be anyone nice."

—

"Sir," the Combine officer reported into his radio, "we've got the whole topside covered."

"_What about the Fissionist?" _the Brigadier General demanded.

"We haven't seen him since the avalanche, sir." The officer answered, "Where are you at the moment?"

The officer looked around as he waited for his Commanding Officer to reply. He was standing on the helipad outside the large hangar. There was a rusty old wire fence around the helipad that had a small gate leading to a collection of bunkers to his right and stopped at the edge of a large building behind him and to his left, which he and his men had reached via the back entrance. Inside, they'd found a small control room full of machines that would have guided that rocket the Resistance fired and another, larger room that looked out at the silo from which they guessed the rocket had been fired from. From there, they'd made their way out through a door leading to a fenced off concrete area that then led to the hangar. From the hangar they'd gone out into the wide open area surrounded by the hangar, the buildings and the bunkers dug into the hills.

"_We're inside the facility itself. I lost a few boys when part of the bunkers collapsed with the mountain."_

"What's happening over there?"

"_The rebel bastards have locked themselves in one of the silos and we can't get to them thanks to the giant blast door between us and them. Have your heard anything from the other half of your attack team?"_

"Negative, sir." The officer replied. When they'd been dropped off, his team had split into two, one heading through to the front of the facility to clear anyone they found out, and his half to search the outer areas as they had now. "Need any help over there?"

"_Most of our boys are over here, about two thousand, by my estimate. We took a heavy beating in the first fifteen minutes, but we're still pretty sure there're less rebels in this hellhole than there are of us."_

"Do you want my team to try and locate our other half?"

"_Have you tried reaching them?"_

"The commander isn't answering his radio, so I assume he's been killed. I don't know about the rest of the troops."

"_Alright, do what you can. Out." _

The officer replaced his radio on his webbing, before looking over at his men. "OK, boys, our orders are to get back in there and locate the others, is that clea—"

Something jumped from the curved roof of the hangar, slamming into the officer from above. He was crushed to bloody pulp in an instant. His soldiers yelped out various exclamations of shock as they opened fire on the robotic horror that was now swiping soldiers into the wall of the hangar like they were mere flies.

—

The elevator reached the fifth floor, and both Gordons prepared to open fire on the occupants... of course, they didn't because the need to attack disappeared like vapour in the wind the instant they saw the worn denim jeans and the civil protection pants of Alyx, Barney and a group of four rebels, all pointing their own guns at the two Freemans. Both parties lowered their guns and exchanged enthused grins at the sight of each other.

"Wow," Alyx looked over at Barney, nodding her head in approval. "That took less time than I thought it would."

Barney chuckled, looking over at then two Freemans. "We were expecting you guys to be in some secluded part of the base half an hour away."

Both Gordons laughed at the comment. "So what was that quake we felt about ten minutes ago?" one of the Gordons asked.

The reaction they got was mixed. Some people pursed their lips, others winced at the thought. Alyx and Barney were part of the latter. "Uh... well, we were fighting up in the bunkers when part of the base fell apart."  
"What?" Both Gordons demanded in unison.

"It just... collapsed!" Barney exclaimed, gesturing with her hands. "Huge cloud of smoke while the floor shook and part of the base just fell away!"

One of the Gordons put a hand to his head. "Geez, must've been horrifying."

"It was pretty scary," Alyx admitted, smiling weakly. "But it gave us an opportunity to escape the Combine. Whether we like it or not, we're sealed in Silo 1. The blast doors aren't budging."

"But someone could come through from the back way," the other Gordon pointed out.

"Yeah, we really should get our people to spread out." Barney agreed. "I mean, it's cramped as hell up there. Besides, we need to keep a strong hold on the base."

"Anyone got a radio?" one Gordon inquired.

A rebel tossed him one. "Thanks," he nodded in gratitude at the rebel, switching to Magnusson's channel. "Dr. Magnusson, you there?"  
_"Of course I'm here, Dr. Freeman! Where are _you?_"  
_Gordon frowned. Magnusson wasn't in a good mood. Then again, Magnusson's 'good mood' was such a rare occurrence that it was verging on becoming legend, a fantastical yet impossible tale. "We're on the bottom floor of Silo 1."

Magnusson huffed on the other end. _"I gather Alyx and Barney have found you?"_

"Yes, yes," Gordon affirmed, waving his hand hurriedly. "I hear the silo is sealed."

"_Certainly, Freeman." _Magnusson answered with a hint of pride in his voice. Gordon wondered why that was so, or if he made everything into a personal success. _"The Combine won't be getting into the silo anytime soon."_

"So why not send some people out to defend the rest of the base?"

A pause on the other end. _"That's a good idea, Dr. Freeman."_

"I know." Gordon didn't let him continue, but rather switched the radio off and passed it back to the rebel he'd gotten it from. "Alright, so are we going or what?"

Alyx looked past the two Freemans, at the shattered glass panel not far behind them. "I guess the door wouldn't open?" she assumed, cocking an eye at the shards on the ground.

"Uh, yeah, you're right." One Gordon admitted, slightly embarrassed. "Well, we couldn't get the door open."

Alyx laughed. "Someone needs to give you two the codes."

The Gordons were about to say something, but stopped themselves. "Yeah." They agreed simultaneously.

—

The Gman looked around the battlefield, impressed at what he'd accomplished. Large strips of tattered metal lay all over the churned up grass, a few small fires burning impudently. There were some large trees lying on the ground, one of which had caught fire after a Hunter-Chopper had ploughed into it and the fuel had splashed all over the ground. Not only was the entire area completely littered with twisted metal and felled trees, but it was covered in mutilated bodies, some of which were missing entire limbs. Some of the corpses had caught fire, fusing material uniform and pale white flesh together sickeningly.

Oh, and a large chunk of the mountain had collapsed about twenty minutes ago, taking half the underground bunkers at the front of White Forest with it.

Basically, the whole thing was a huge field of destruction.

The Gman looked down at his hands. They were in terrible condition, stained blood red by the many wounds he'd received while throwing helicopters by their blades or tearing thick metal plates in half.

He really needed to be less full-on while fighting.

_Then again, _the Gman thought as he watched his cuts seal and his bruises disappearing, _what entertainment is there in subtlety?_

The Gman had had enough of subtlety. Almost forty years of being subtle, hiding on the sidelines doing nothing but watching was one way to get extremely bored, surpassing boundaries even the most patient man couldn't possibly handle.

Straightening up and adjusting his tie with his now perfectly healthy hands, the Gman made to examine the damage he'd done to the base. Suddenly, something flashed before his eyes.

It was a single repugnant creature, covered in sickly green flesh and bathed in gloomy light. Its body was like that of a giant slug with robotic components, like a cybernetic gastropod.

The Gman's eyes widened. _Shu'ulathoi..._

There was an Advisor somewhere at the base.

—

"So how are you actually supposed to get there?" one of the Gordons asked as he stood up from looking down the tunnel-like gap he and his twin had crawled through twice in a few days.

Alyx pointed down at the sealed blast door not far to their left. "Usually people would take that path there, which then leads to the damaged area of the facility. All you do is go back in this direction after reaching that area and you'll eventually find yourself in the storage area."

Both Gordons nodded, both having seen what Alyx was talking about. White Forest wasn't all in suitable condition. Some of the secluded areas of the base had already fallen apart in places, since the base probably had its origins in the Cold War era of the Soviet Union as the Russian signs around the facility had suggested. "I'm guessing the way we went to the secondary silo wasn't the usual way?"

"Well, not really," Alyx admitted. "Only a small part of the base is considered dangerous. I think you can tell where it starts because I seem to remember there's a destroyed wall just before a flooded room."

Again, both Gordons knew what she was talking about. That room had consisted of half a metal staircase, an old wire fence and a pile of concrete detritus on the other side of that fence, plus a large flooded hole in the floor.

"But no," she continued, "people work down here. It's just... most people don't swim from here to the secondary silo."

The Gordons laughed, smiling. "Unlike us."

Barney and the other rebels laughed too. Spirits were unusually high for people stuck in a base being invaded by a large force of enemy soldiers. Then again, this wasn't exactly new to anyone anymore.

"So, can we open the blast door?" one Gordon inquired, looking at the thick slab of metal in the doorway. Alyx moved over to it, looking at the security panel. "Yep, just a sec..." she quickly punched in a few digits, and the door hissed open. "Alright," she looked back at the group with an encouraging smile. "Let's go."

Everyone followed after her, one of the Gordons determined to know more. "So, the secondary silo and this area aren't supposed to be connected, even though they are?"

Alyx nodded. "There isn't exactly any other way into this place, since it's effectively the basement of the facility." She smiled at the analogy, "Both of the silos are connected by the bunkers and buildings on and just below the surface," she continued, "and there's really only one path down to this area, and that's through the elevator in Silo 1. So yeah, usually the secondary silo and this area aren't connected, but I guess that flooded hole you both went through that led to the secondary silo was simply because the base isn't maintained as well as it should be."

Gordon nodded. That was understandable, especially considering the base was old and it wasn't as if repairs were easy to do these days.

_The world's never going to be the same, _he thought to himself grimly.

—

Dr. Magnusson nodded, holding the radio to his mouth. "It's our only hope. But are you sure they'll detonate? I mean, all things considered..."

"_Dr. Magnusson, we have confirmed that they are perfectly operational," _the person on the other end answered confidently. _"They should be arriving at White Forest in... ten minutes, maybe?"_

"Good." Magnusson exhaled loudly. "Thanks you, Colonel."

"_My pleasure, Dr. Magnusson. Out."_

Magnusson replaced his radio, and looked over at the people still on the first floor of Silo 1. "Alright, people, let's move."

—

"I'd forgotten we didn't kill everyone in here," Gordon grunted, poking his head around the corner again.

Their group was back in the dimly lit hallways the Gordons had ambushed the Combine attack team not half an hour ago. Of course, they'd forgotten that about fifteen soldiers had actually survived after their daring escape while the room had been flooding.

Then again, neither of them had expected them to hang around.

The rebel group was up on the highest part of the room, looking at the other side of the room where a group of Combine soldiers had set up a crude barricade they were now hiding behind. "Do we have any ways to clear them out?" Barney hissed from behind the two Gordons.

"I could try throwing a grenade," one Gordon suggested. "But I probably wouldn't make the distance."

Barney snorted. "As if you wouldn't. Here, pass me one."

Reluctantly, Gordon obliged and handed Barney one of his MK3A2s. Barney ripped the pin out with professional ease and calmly lobbed the grenade into the middle of the room. A few moments later, there was a splash from somewhere beyond, followed by louder and more frantic splashes before a final muffled underwater explosion gave the signal for the rebel team to run out from their cover and open fire on the soldiers from up on the third level of the storage area while the enemy dragged themselves through the water, most of them not even bothering with the failed premise of returning fire while running away.

Relentlessly, the rebels advanced, jumping down onto the metal catwalk on the second level as soldiers quickly took cover behind whatever they could: Concrete pillars, corrugated iron plates, whatever.

There was now an all-out firefight in progress. At least, it would have been if the Advisor hadn't shown up. It seemingly came out of nowhere, floating slowly toward the rebels. All eight of them saw it and immediately made to scramble back up the ladder they'd come from. The Advisor either didn't try to stop them or it just couldn't, but it was most likely the latter since one poor soul was slammed against the concrete wall the ladder was on as the slug-like beast made its way over to him.

"_No, oh please, fuck no!" _

Nobody turned around. They just ran back through the darkened hallway as the man's screams faded, before a single squelching crack noise sounded.

The rebels stopped after a short while of running, having made their way into another flooded room. This one, however, was a lot smaller and was full of crates and tanks that lined the walls. A single broken pipe hung limply from the ceiling, small drips hitting the surface of the water with an almost serene regularity.

_Drip... drip... drip..._

The rebels just stood in the middle of the room, desperately trying to decide on a course of action.

_Drip... drip... drip..._

"Should we hide here?" Barney suggested nervously.

"I think we should try and run!" someone else proposed anxiously, their voice shaking.

_Drip... drip... drip..._

"Where would we go?" another rebel demanded anxiously. "The only place we have to go is the secondary silo and then we'll be cornered!"

Gordon watched the rebels arguing, his mind screaming that they were running out of time to decide. The Advisor was coming to kill them all.

_Drip... drip... drip..._

All of them would be dead...

_Drip... drip... drip..._

_No. _Gordon thought to himself. _I didn't travel back in time to ultimately change nothing._

_Drip... drip... drip..._

"All of you, run." Gordon decided firmly.

Everyone looked at him, wide eyed. "But, Gordon..." Alyx protested.

"I'm not _the _Gordon." Gordon interrupted, just as resolute as he had been. "I came back in time to change things. I'm not going to let you all die and make my decision worth nothing."

_Drip... drip... drip..._

"Gordon..." this time, it was his own twin that tried to argue.

"No, dammit!" Gordon hissed. "I shouldn't be here right now. But because I am," he swallowed, eyes glistening adamantly, "I should do what I can."

He looked at Alyx. "Please, the only reason I'm here was because of you and Barney..." he looked at Barney, smiling. "But now that there are two of me, even if I die..." he took a deep but shaky breath, "... technically I'll have accomplished something. But if _you _die, then everything becomes void."

Nobody made any objection.

Alyx took a step forward, "Thank you," she whispered, gently pulling his head closer and kissing him on the forehead. She drew away, her eyes tearing up.

"Don't cry, Alyx." Gordon whispered back. "I'm not going anywhere." He looked at his duplicate, smiling weakly. "I'm never really leaving your side."

Barney also took a step forward and grabbed Gordon tightly. "Shit, man," he muttered, patting his back affectionately, "Sorry things have to be like this."

Gordon sighed, pulling away. "You know what the last thing you said to me before you died was?" Barney didn't say anything, merely gave a small shake of his head, so Gordon told him. "_Sorry about that beer._"

Barney laughed at that, but it was short lived. "Goodbye, Gordon."

Gordon laughed as well, but it was extremely shaky. "Hey, I'm not really leaving, remember?"

Barney looked over at the other Gordon. "Yeah, I guess not."

"So go on!" Gordon insisted, ushering them on, toward the sloping hallway at the other end of the room. "I'll try and distract it long enough for you to make it to the secondary silo, but you'll have to swim. Gordon, the airvent we took to get in here earlier. Take everyone through it."

Gordon nodded, his lips pursed. "Goodbye, me."

Gordon laughed again. "Quickly, you have to go! Remember, that there _is_ me."

The rebels nodded, before giving a final wave goodbye and running for the secondary silo.

Gordon took a deep breath, before turning around and running back down the long hallway to the storage area.

He didn't have to go very far, because the Advisor showed itself by the time he was halfway down the dark corridor. Gritting his teeth, Gordon pulled out his shotgun and quickly pumped the action. _Let's dance, you piece of shit._

—

The Gman ran.

Through the middle of the facility, across a bloodied up fenced off area covered in bodies that had either been splattered on the walls or, in one case, crushed into a blob of blood and tattered material.

Quickly, the Gman ran over to the other side of the field, jumped onto the wire fence separating him from the small concrete area that joined the command centre and the hangar. He climbed over it with ease, landing gently on the other side. He brushed himself off absent-mindedly and headed over to the command centre.

—

Gordon backpedalled quickly, firing persistently at the calmly approaching creature. The giant slug-like thing didn't even react to the thick balls of shot that slammed into its body, it just kept at its slow, even pace floating toward the goateed scientist.

He ripped back the action on his shotgun, before wrenching it back forward and giving the creature a quick double tap, sending two shells worth of shot right into the front of the creature. It didn't even stop.

Things weren't looking good, and he was running out of options. So, in an almost last-ditch attempt at stopping the thing, Gordon unslung his RPG-25 from over his shoulders.  
The creature didn't react to this at all. For some reason, it also wasn't pasting him to the walls. Maybe it was trying to make a point, silently gloating in the imminent victory it would have over the notorious Dr. Gordon Freeman.

And afterwards, it would find his friends and suck their lives out of their necks.

—

The Gman found something of an impasse once he'd reached the secondary silo blast doors. They wouldn't open. However, someone else had already discovered this and was trying its best to open the doors by slamming its metal fists against them.

"Ah," the Gman smiled at the sight of the robot. "Dog, we meet at last."

The robot looked over at the Gman curiously, whirring robotically. "Yes, yes, I'll open the door." The Gman nodded, taking a few steps closer to the thick metal entrance before flicking it gently with a manicured nail. The door was simply thrown from its frame, spinning as it flew through the air as if it were a giant metal ballerina, before it came crashing down on the other side of the wide sloping corridor.

Dog whirred at the Gman. "It was rather impressive, wasn't it?" the Gman agreed, heading through the newly created entrance with the towering robot.

—

Gordon loaded the rocket, gritting his teeth again as he aimed the giant launcher at the creature coming toward him. "Dinner is served!" Gordon growled, smacking the fire button down. Instantly, the rocket exploded from the launcher — making Gordon lose balance momentarily — sending a searing jet of flame out the back and blasting the explosive forward. In less than a second, the rocket slammed into the Advisor just as the creature sent out a wave of telekinetic energy, throwing the already unbalanced Gordon head over heels into the flooded room he'd just come from.

His ears were ringing, his eyes were stinging and he couldn't see anything. A few moments later, his vision slowly returned just in time for him to see the Advisor floating towards him. _How the hell do you kill these things? _Gordon wondered furiously.

Suddenly, he was thrown into another wall, crushing the bones in his left arm as he spun in midair so that his left side hit the wall. He screamed in pain as his suit incessantly beeped at him for getting hurt.

The Advisor seemed to be sadistically delighted at Gordon's screams and it threw him to the floor, his body falling off the wall limply. Gordon growled softly, moving his right arm slowly to grab his crowbar. The Advisor, like before, made no attempt at stopping him and rather took pleasure in watching the most dangerous man in the world struggling to fight it.

But Gordon wasn't about to give it such satisfaction. He slowly climbed to his feet, stared at the single cybernetic optic device on the Advisor's left and let a tight smile brake his lips. "Hungry for more?" he asked calmly, before he slammed the hooked end of his crowbar into the creature's head as if it were a baseball bat.

And, amazingly, it actually dug into the creature's flesh.

The Advisor had most certainly _not _been expecting such an unlikely turn of events and decided it was time to stop screwing around and to break this bastard's neck. Quickly, two spindly metal arm-like attachments extended from its side and it quickly grabbed Gordon, digging the spined ends into his side so deeply that it drew blood. The crowbar was still stuck in the creature's head and a strange azure liquid was dripping down the side of its round limbless body.

Gordon snarled at the creature, trying to ignore the pain in his side, his arm and his head. _This is it, _he thought. _Goodbye, world, Dr. Freeman has finally resigned._

The Advisor turned him around, and Gordon heard the sickeningly familiar sound of its squelchy tongue-like appendage slowly sliding from its mouthless face.

—

"Where is he?" the Gman demanded, looking down the hollow centre of the silo.

"He's still on the other side of that wall," Alyx pointed, her hair dripping with water. She paused momentarily before continuing, "Holding off an Advisor."

The group of rebels had been trying to escape just before the Gman and Dog had ploughed through the blast door and they were now standing on the top floor of the silo.

The Gman had been anticipating something like this, but it didn't make him feel any better. "I assume you mean theGordon Freeman that I personally remember offering employment?"

The group nodded in reply. The Gman himself gave a sharp nod of affirmation. "Right," he answered calmly, jumping over the silo safety rail. He landed on a thick metal plate about halfway down that crossed over from one side of the silo to the other, before jumping off it onto the bottom level and swiftly slamming his fist into the concrete wall. Instantly a large chunk of the wall crumbled away and the Gman ducked in as he headed over to the other side.

The rebels just watched him go from the top level as they leaned over the rail themselves. "Wow." Someone muttered.

—

_Nobody was expecting an Advisor to turn up._

Gordon was silently wishing he could cover his ears, or that he would become deaf if only he wouldn't hear the noise of the Advisor's tongue squelching just behind his head.

_Alyx wasn't. Barney wasn't. Those rebels weren't. _

_And I wasn't._

Something icy cold slid across the back of his neck...

_But then it happened._

And then it happened.

—

The Gman saw the Advisor an instant before it thrust its tongue into Gordon's neck and he charged. The Advisor, through some unknown means, noticed he was there and...

...killed him.

Blood splattered all over the creature's face, drops falling into the water below, colouring it with pale pink splotches. Gordon's whole body went limp, his head sagging, his arms and legs falling down to his side. The Advisor dropped his body into the water, and his glasses cracked.

The Gman didn't stop.

He just crashed into the Advisor, grabbed the crowbar still sticking out of the creature's head and swung it into its slug-like head.

_Very _powerfully.

A chunk as big as a basketball was ripped from the creature's face as pale blue liquid sprayed all over the Gman's suit. It didn't even get a chance to scream, or retaliate, or do anything, really.

It just died.

Painfully.

The Gman looked over at Dr. Freeman's body. For the first time in his life, he didn't make any comments. He just picked his body up, along with his damaged glasses, and slowly walked away.

But just as he was about to step from the flooded room, he looked down at Gordon.

And he whispered one thing.

"My apologies, Dr. Freeman. However, I believe I will be able to make it up to you."

—

They came suddenly.

Nobody had had any idea that they _were _coming.

In fact, most people didn't even know they still existed.

But, such a premise was shattered when a squadron of twelve MiG-21 fighter jets with the Croatian coat of arms on their sides flew overhead, a few dropping their payloads of FAB-250 general purpose bombs on the front bunkers of the base.

The Combine soldiers never had a chance.

Then they turned around and swept overhead, looking for anyone else. A few soldiers running across the facility were easily taken out by the fighters' forward cannons.

The attack was over.

"_Attack run complete, Dr. Magnusson, we're heading out."_

At the bottom of Silo 1, Dr. Magnusson smiled. "Thank you, 21st Squadron."

"_No worries, sir, it was our pleasure. Out."_

Magnusson replaced his radio with a smile. "Alright, people, the base is secure." He allowed himself a quiet chuckle, despite the humourlessness of the subject, "although, not entirely intact."

—

The Gman didn't say anything when he brought the body out.

Nobody said anything.

People just bowed their heads in respect of the One Free Man.

Who, as many people noticed, looked like his mind was indecisive as to whether or not he should be mourning his dead self. Nobody made any comments about that, they themselves were unsure of what they would do in his place.

The Gman lay his body on the grassy hill that was the highest part of White Forest, looking out at the fallen trees and the faint smoke pillars rising from explosion craters and the giant chunk of mountain that had fallen away.

Most people would have seen destruction and death.

The Gman looked past all that, at the beautiful sapphire sky and the luscious green grass on the hill they were standing on, determined to grow despite the devastation caused to its surroundings.

And he smiled.

* * *

**Damn, people, that was LONG. Originally, I was intending on having it even LONGER, but I decided to move that bit into the Epilogue. Don't worry, it should come soon enough. And by the way, ArtisticLemur: Yes, I know I told you Gordon wouldn't die, but... well, as GLaDOS would say, that was a complete fabrication. I just didn't want anyone to really know what was going to happen until it actually did.**

**So, I hope that was an epic enough final chapter for all of you. I could have destroyed the entire facility, but that would've been going a little bit overboard. Well, unless this already HAS gone overboard, that is.**


	29. Epilogue: Terminus

**-=Epilogue: Terminus=-**

He didn't know how much time had passed, if any.

He didn't know where he was, if anywhere.

He didn't know why he still felt like he was alive.

The Advisor had undeniably killed him, snapped his spinal cord at the top of his neck. But somehow, he was still alive. To a degree, at least: He couldn't move, he couldn't see anything, the entire universe was silent. He couldn't smell anything, he couldn't taste anything and he didn't know if he was standing up, or lying down, or upside down. It was like he was in zero gravity, but he wasn't moving and nothing was holding him.

He felt like a soul in a lifeless corpse.

And then suddenly the impenetrable darkness was compromised, and a bright rectangle of light appeared to his left.

A single silhouetted figure stepped in the way of this light from somewhere beyond it, as if it were a gateway opened in nothingness. The rectangle of light slowly became thinner as if it were coming from somewhere beyond a closing doorway, until it was gone completely.

The umbrageous man had also disappeared entirely, now one with the darkness. However, unlike the darkness that surrounded the two of them he was not silent. "Dr. Freeman."

Gordon's body wouldn't allow him to make any kind of response, but then again the Gman seemed aware of this fact so he continued. "It has been... approximately six hours since your passing. During that time, White Forest has been successfully defended and, primarily due to your gallant sacrifice, Alyx, Barney and your twin were able to avoid their death."

Again, Gordon couldn't show his relief through any physical means, but he assumed the Gman knew what he'd be feeling and that was why he'd told him.

The Gman continued from wherever he was. "You have obviously realised that your actions are limited to the minimum of sensory perception," he explained, "and therefore you have no way of communicating with me. I apologise for not being able to save you, but again I am certain this sacrifice was intentional and for good reason.

"Since you cannot ask, I once again must guess at the questions you wish me to answer, beginning with the most evident one: How are you hearing me? Well, the simple answer to that is that your conscious self has been... severed from your body, however it is still within it. Think of it as a tenant still occupying a house after his contract of residence has been terminated."

Gordon wondered how the Gman came up with such strange analogies.

"Thus, the reason you cannot walk, talk or really do anything beyond minimal sight and hearing is because you are dead. However, I made a request that I be allowed to talk with you one last time before you passed on for eternity."

Gordon assumed the Fissionist Faction had been involved with this request, though he wondered if all this really was as easy as formally asking a council of divine guardians if you could have a chat with a dead person for a few minutes.

"Unlike you, Dr. Freeman, I haven't got forever to talk," the Gman continued his monologue, "and consequently brevity is obligatory."

_For someone who has to be brief, _Gordon thought to himself, _he's using pretty big words._

"I have decided to extend my residency on the planet Earth for an indefinite amount of time," he explained, "and I intend on departing only when I am required for something of critical importance. Besides, I believe I am deserving of a rest just as much as you are."

Gordon tried to smile, but his mouth felt dead. Then again, it was.

The Gman sighed deeply. "Dr. Freeman... again, I trust your sacrifice was intentional and I can see potential motivations, most of which concern the relationship you had with Ms. Vance and Mr. Calhoun. Since, in essence, you were a foreigner to them their minds were inadvertently biased toward unconsciously alienating you. This, while not evident to them, was easily recognised by you: You are not _their _Dr. Gordon Freeman."

Gordon agreed entirely, and wished once more that he could talk to the Gman for one last time.

"But to me, Dr. Freeman, you _are the _Gordon Freeman. You are the exact man I offered to employ as the saviour of the human race, while oblivious to the ulterior factors that did, as you successfully argued back in Northern Sweden, define who you are and what you did.

"I remember telling you that you made the right choice when you stepped into that portal, twenty years ago. And do you know something? I believe that I too made the right choice in selecting you, Dr. Freeman." He paused momentarily, "Well, I should leave you to finally get your hard-earned rest, Dr. Freeman. So, I have one last thing to say on behalf of myself, the Fissionist Faction and, most importantly, the human race for whom you defended, destroyed and avenged during your short time on the Combine ruled Earth: Thank you, and..." he paused again, but longer and more... meaningfully, or at least more so to Gordon, "goodbye."

The rectangle of white light appeared once more, illuminating the Gman's silhouette as he walked through it, before it disappeared for all eternity.

And with that, Gordon went back to sleep.

—

_The funeral was so similar to Eli's. No music, inside what remained of the White Forest bunkers._

_Again, I said a few words. Nobody seemed to find this weird except myself, but of course there couldn't possibly be anyone else in existence who knew Gordon better than myself._

_We buried his body next to Eli's, in the part of the forest that had fortunately escaped destruction from both fire and an immortal Fissionist throwing helicopters at the ground._

_I answered a few unspoken questions: Why was Dr. Freeman such a great man, and how?_

_These questions... I could not have answered them a week ago. I didn't have the answer back then._

_But now, I have pieced everything together with the help of the people around me._

_I told them that Dr. Gordon Freeman was a great man because he never fought for himself. He always fought to defend people, to destroy the hated Combine and to avenge people he had been too late to save._

_I could tell people wanted to know why he never fought for himself. So I told them: Gordon Freeman was only twenty seven years old when he died._

_People had of course known about the Gman, but only a select few actually knew about his stasis. I explained everything the Gman had done for Gordon, and how it was thanks to him that Gordon was able to do what he could._

—

_The Gman had been there to stop the Seven Hour War. But he didn't._

_A week ago, I had no idea why he didn't._

_But now I know._

_He couldn't reveal himself to the world, less the Combine send a force so large that the human race would have been entirely eradicated in their attempts to destroy him._

_I hold nothing against him, but rather thank him for everything he's done for me, and for Gordon._

—

_The dark energy the Gman gave me in the Victory Mines... I know where it came from._

_My time travelling doppelganger orchestrated the entire thing, just so he would see the woman he loved again._

_For some reason, I felt guilty, as if I stole her from him even though it's impossible to steal from yourself._

_But I felt like he deserved her more._

_He had to watch her die, took the one chance to see her again and I was there to break his heart._

_Even though we are the same person, I can't even imagine how it would feel to watch Alyx die._

_But because he had changed the past just to see her and Barney again, he decided to sacrifice himself to save them._

_And to save me._

—

_The answers I have been given... they are satisfactory. I am no different to the people around me, except that I do not fight for myself._

_Dr. Kleiner was right. The Combine do not fear any such material weapon we might threaten them with, but our nature as human beings: We fight with such determination to not only survive, but for our freedom._

_Gordon Freeman, The One Free Man._

_And now I have not only freed myself from my questions, but the whole of Romania._

_Gordon Freeman, One of Many Freed Men._

_And now, we must help free our brethren all over the world._

_..._

_Rest in peace, Gordon._

—

Gordon had not been expecting to wake up, but then again nobody knew what happened when you died even though it was probably the most questioned subject in the history of mankind.

He had been woken up by a voice.

A voice he had never expected to hear again, among many.

"_Gordon?"_

Gordon realised he could smile, and he did.

_Alyx.

* * *

_

**So there we have it, people. The end. Today, it's Sunday the 18th of March, and that means its been five weeks since I posted the redone prologue up here. **

**I started writing the original prologue one Sunday morning not unlike today and I wasn't thinking anything of it. I thought it was pretty good and decided that there needed to be an Episode 3 fic in my insane action-thriller style on the site, so I put it up and now it's turned into this.**

** There might be a sequel, but don't hold me to it unless I get the majority of my readers requesting it. **

**Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, given ideas and heaped extremely generous amounts of praise onto me. You have no idea how great it feels to get compliments. Deremix, thanks again (by my count, this is the twenty billionth thank you) for offering to make a machinima for this. Believe me, it really made my day when I read your offer. ArtisticLemur, thanks for the offer to make the mod, so I guess all that needs to be done is iron out the issues.**

**So, enjoy the machinima, hope you enjoyed the fic and don't worry, I'll probably keep writing. It's what I do, it's what I do for fun in my spare time - and I used to even do it during class, thus resulting in bad half yearly reports that ended that writing adventure. **

**You know what, I'm going to do a sequel. Then again, I'm actually considering doing a Full Life Consequences multichapter epic, not like the oneshot rewrite that merely fixed the grammar and contradictions. But of course, Full Life Consequences is one of those taboo things on this site that, when people try to do rewrites or adaptions, usually end in flames. But I really think it'd be worth it, I'd just have to make it in some sort of alternate timeline where the Combine didn't take complete control of Earth and where the Gman doesn't exist.**

**But whatever. Right, you are dismissed.  
**


End file.
